


The Miles That Lay Ahead

by Gabi2305



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-14
Updated: 2006-05-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 142,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8073979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabi2305/pseuds/Gabi2305
Summary: Trip still can't walk. But that doesn't prevent him and Malcolm from getting into trouble. Very deep trouble indeed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

 

  
Author's notes: This story directly follows the events of "What Lies Within Us." To find out why Trip can't walk you may want to read that one first, although some explanations are provided in this story as well.  
  
Beta: Sita Z.

* * *

"The miles I put behind me ain't as hard as the miles that lay ahead."

(Joe Diffie, "Home")

**Chapter 1**

They grabbed him and tied him down on the examination table. He tried to fight them, but he couldn't move. He opened his mouth to scream, but he didn't have any air to do so. He couldn't breathe. He was wheezing. Cold hands were all over him, metal instruments thrusting into his every orifice. "Take it easy, buddy," Jon said, tearing open his uniform down the back. "I can't sedate you," Phlox said, burying a long needle in his spine. He tried to scream, but he still had no air. Not a sound escaped his lips. Why are you doing this, he pleaded silently. Why are you torturing me, you are my friends! Jon bent down over him, a cold glint sparkling in his eyes, and he was smiling maliciously.

"Commander!" He felt a hand settle on his shoulders and startled. "Commander, wake up!"

With a jerk, Trip sat up, his eyes wide. Lieutenant Hess stood in front of him, a concerned expression on her face. "Sorry to wake you, Sir, but you seemed to be having a nightmare," she said apologetically.

Slowly, Trip let out the breath that he'd been holding. "That's one way to put it, Anna," he sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. Then, realizing what had happened, he stopped in his tracks. "Oh dammit, I fell asleep. Just don't tell the cap'n his chief engineer's been nappin' on duty."

"Don't worry, Chief." Anna Hess smiled at him. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

Trip gave the young woman a grateful look. She knew as well as he did that this wasn't about him falling asleep on duty, but about Captain Archer, who'd immediately start worrying about his friend again. And by now, Trip was fed up with people worrying about him.

"You should go and get some rest, Commander," Lieutenant Hess said. "You look beat."

And he was. Ever since Phlox had injected him with the antidote that was supposed to cure him of the paralysis he felt tired all the time, and Trip was beginning to get frustrated. The doctor told him daily not to exhaust himself, but Trip simply wanted to get rid of that wheelchair. And that wouldn't happen if he stayed in bed all the time.

"No time for that," he said and gave a huge yawn. "I'm meeting Lieutenant Reed in the gym in half an hour. There's still that exercise schedule I have to work off."

Anna Hess smiled again. "You're making progress."

"I am." Trip smiled and waggled his feet. "They've started to move again. Now they only have to remember how to carry my weight."

"They will," said Hess, nodding reassuringly. "Just don't overdo it."

Trip sighed. That was something he heard every day, from everybody. He watched Anna as she returned to her workstation and suddenly, a shiver ran through him. The nightmare had been quite intense. The aliens, the unpleasant examination onboard their vessel, Phlox injecting him with the cure, not being able to breathe; it all came back to him. He tried to shrug off the disturbing memories, and decided it would be best if he just concentrated on his work again.

When Trip left the engine room twenty minutes later, he'd been able to shake off the nightmare, but he didn't feel any more awake than before. He had ten minutes left before his workout started, and realized that he had to decide between changing and getting himself a cup of coffee. Each took about the same amount of time, and ten minutes weren't enough to do both. He didn't want to make Malcolm wait. Trip glanced down at his jeans. They'd be alright for the exercises, coffee was his priority right now.

"Coffee, strong," he ordered as he arrived in the mess hall, and watched the black liquid pour into the cup. He took a few sips so the cup wouldn't be filled all the way to the brim anymore, then made his way to one of the tables. He still hadn't figured out how to steer the wheelchair with one hand while holding a filled cup in the other without spilling the drink all over himself. He supposed he could learn how to do so with a little practice, but it wasn't necessary since he wouldn't be using this wheelchair for very much longer now. From a nearby table he saw Hoshi waving at him to join her and Travis, and he steered his wheelchair in their direction.

"Do you want me to get you something to eat, Commander?" Hoshi asked after the usual greetings had been exchanged. She knew about his balancing problems which weren't restricted to coffee.

Trip looked at her. When they'd been convinced that he was about to die, she had called him Trip, but ever since he was getting better, she had changed back to addressing him by rank. Still, something had changed. His relationship to the other senior officers had always been an amicable one, but the recent experience had deepened it even further. His friends had accompanied him to death's door step, had guided him past and around it and back to life. They had fed and changed him when he'd been unable to move, and Hoshi still stopped by his quarters every day to give him a massage to ease his muscle cramping. All of this had formed a bond, and a formal addressing or two couldn't change that.

"Commander?"

Trip realized that Hoshi was still waiting for an answer to her question. He grinned. "Sorry, Hoshi, I was kinda woolgatherin' there for a minute."

"I noticed." She smiled. "So, do you want me to get you something?"

"No, that's alright, Hoshi. Malcolm's waitin' for me in the gym. I still got some work to do." Trip finished his coffee and placed the cup on Hoshi's tray.

"Trip!" she called as he turned to go. Smiling, Trip looked back at her.

"Don't overdo it, okay?"

* * *

 

Hoshi's advice still in mind, Trip arrived at the gym at the same time as Malcolm. The armoury officer, apparently in high spirits, greeted him and let him enter first.

"You look tired," Malcolm stated after a scrutinizing look at Trip's face.

"I'm alright," Trip hastily assured, stifling a yawn. With the help of his friend he let himself slide out of the wheelchair onto one of the mats. The exercises Phlox had prescribed for him to give his limbs their former flexibility were exhausting but satisfying. His muscles reacted a little sluggishly today, but Trip refused to take it easy, pushing himself to the limit.

"Good job," Malcolm said finally.

Trip ran a hand over his sweaty forehead and snorted. "Good job, that's all?"

"A lot better than just a few days ago." Malcolm made an indicating movement with his head. "Do you want to go play with your new toy?"

"Sure," Trip grinned. The day before, his engineering team had put up a set of parallel bars in the gym, a trustworthy solid steel apparatus complete with two polished wooden bars that had just the right height to help him with his first attempts to walk. Yesterday he'd almost managed to pass one length, today he wanted it to be two at least. With a little help from Malcolm he climbed back into the wheelchair and positioned himself in front of the bars. Carefully, he put first one, then two feet on the gym floor, as always amazed as he watched his legs move. They wouldn't carry his weight yet, but they were moving, if slowly and awkwardly. Something he wouldn't have thought possible after Phlox' first diagnosis.

Malcolm moved up in front of him and put his arms around Trip's waist. "Ready?"

"Ready." Trip reached for the bars, pulling himself up and straightening his arms. Same as yesterday, a dizzy spell washed over him as his body adapted to the new upright position. When he'd tried this for the first time, he'd almost lost his balance, but today he was prepared. So was Malcolm who didn't let go until Trip gave him a short nod.

"Well, Commander, off you go." Malcolm took a step backwards but stayed close to catch Trip in case he slipped. But Trip was planning on no such thing. He felt how his legs supported him, how he could move his feet forward inch by inch and put his weight on them without his knees giving way immediately. It was a good feeling to be standing on his own two feet again. A damn good feeling.

The biggest problem cropped up as he reached the end of the bars' length. Trip had no idea how to turn around to go back.

"Well done, Trip," Malcolm said as Trip had passed one length. "Is it okay for you to stay there for a second? I'll get the wheelchair."

"No, Malcolm." Trip shook his head. "I'm not done yet. Help me turn around."

"It's enough for today," Malcolm tried to protest, but he knew it was no use. When Trip had set his mind on doing something, even an exploding galaxy had a hard time convincing him otherwise. And indeed, his friend was shaking his head vehemently. In the meantime, Trip's breathing was coming in gasps from the strain he was putting on himself, but giving up wasn't an option. "Are you gonna help me, or are you gonna wait till I fall on my face?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Malcolm gave the engineer a thoughtful look. "It'll probably work if you turned your feet ninety degrees. Push yourself up." He got to his knees and turned Trip's feet to one side. "Now turn around and pull your feet behind you. Wait a second!" Malcolm quickly got to his feet to be able to catch Trip in case the engineer missed one of the bars. But Trip's sense for distances was far from bad. He put his full weight on his legs, pushed himself off and in a quick movement, with each hand he grabbed the other bar. Malcolm gave him an appreciative look, but Trip didn't see it for he was now standing with his back to his friend.

The way back was harder. Trip felt his arms starting to tremble, and at times his feet seemed to stick to the floor. But the finishing line was less than six feet away, and Trip wanted to make it. That and more. It should be possible to add a third length. It was worth a try, anyway.

He heard Malcolm give a chuckle behind him. "Did anyone ever tell you that your derrière is worth a second look, Commander?"

Instinctively throwing a startled look over his shoulder, Trip felt his right elbow give way, and he stumbled. Immediately, Malcolm slid his arms under his armpits, supporting him. "Watch out," the armory officer said, but the laughter was still evident in his voice. He waited until Trip had regained his balance, then ducked under one of the bars and appeared in front of the engineer.

"You wanna scare me to death, Mal?" Trip asked, half-angry and half-amused, then returned his attention to his current task of putting one foot in front of the other.

"Sorry Trip. I know, you would like to hear that rather from a female crew-member." Malcolm gave a low chuckle.

Trip shot Malcolm a glare. He knew, of course, that Malcolm wasn't complimenting him on his rear view. The lieutenant knew exactly why Trip hadn't changed into his usual Starfleet jumpsuit, and couldn't resist the chance to tease him about it. Of course Trip knew that he looked better in his jeans than in the uniform. There was no need to tell him that. The looks some female crew members were giving him weren't only because of the wheelchair. And to be honest, Trip found the fact that they still thought of him as attractive despite his handicap to be quite reassuring. Besides, he was more comfortable wearing his jeans, too. The captain had allowed him to wear civilian clothing as long as he wanted. What Jon had meant was of course that Trip could wear what he wanted as long as he found himself incapable of pulling the uniform over his paralyzed legs. If he was able to put on his jeans, though, he would manage the same thing with the Starfleet jumpsuit. The thing was just that Trip didn't really want to try. Malcolm knew that, of course, and Trip was convinced that Jon knew as well. But when it came to that matter, Jon granted him something like a fool's license. The cripple premium, as Trip called it. And if Jon had decided to be lax about regulations for once, then Trip was determined to make the most of it. The day he was able to give Phlox back his wheelchair and leave sickbay on his own two legs - maybe with crutches as support - was the day he would put on his discarded uniform and signal people that Trip Tucker was back. On the other hand, if his casual clothing already provoked teasing remarks like Malcolm's just now, maybe it was time to start thinking about wearing his uniform again, wheelchair or no.

He had reached the end of the bars and turned around, this time without Malcolm's help. However, as he was just about to start on another round, Malcolm put a hand on his arm.

"Stop. It's enough for today."

"Just one more." Trip panted. "I know I can do it."

"I'm sure you can. But just listen to you breathing." Malcolm grabbed him under the arms and using gentle force, he pulled him back and sat him into the wheelchair. "You want Phlox to hook you up to the respirator again?"

At these words, Trip shuddered slightly. Anything but that. Malcolm was right. Trip's breathing was coming in gasps, and his heart was thumping against his ribs. His t-shirt was sweat-soaked and sticking to his back and Trip decided that maybe it was time to listen to reason and not overdo it. "Okay," he relented, rubbing a hand over his sweaty face. "Let's leave it at that for today."

Malcolm nodded. "Shower, then supper?"

"Sounds like a plan."

"You need any help?"

"Showerin'?" Trip grinned. "Malcolm, I'm a big boy already, I'll manage on my own."

"Sorry, almost forgot." Malcolm chuckled and gave Trip a pat on the shoulder, opening the door for him.

* * *

 

Trip was sitting in the shower, relishing the feeling of the hot water pounding on his back and massaging his cramped muscles. He was quite pleased with himself. Yesterday he'd still needed Malcolm's help to get into the shower, today he'd managed on his own. Remembering the workout session, Trip felt a surge of pride. Today he had done some walking. Not only a few unsteady steps like the day before, but real walking. It probably wouldn't be too long until he had to start wearing his uniform again. The time when he was going to get rid of the wheelchair once and forever was drawing closer with every day. Trip was happy about the dull ache in his muscles, for it told him that they followed his commands again and would do what he told them to. Feeling somewhat reckless, he wondered whether he would manage to get to his feet here in the shower. He was already looking for a suitable handhold to pull himself up when the sensible part of his mind kicked in and told him that a slippery shower probably wasn't the right place to continue his exercises. He didn't need a computer to know that the probability of him slipping and falling rather badly would be quite high. And the thought of the lectures Phlox, Jon and Malcolm were going to give him if he tried a stunt like that was enough to cure him of the idea. Maybe tomorrow he would be ready to try something like that. The day after that, at the latest. Trip closed his eyes, smiling, and enjoyed the warm water that loosened the rest of the tension in his body.


	2. Chapter 2

Why the hell was it that he was so tired? Trip yawned. He'd slept quite well that night, but all the same he didn't feel rested. The muscles in his arms and legs ached, but he didn't mind. After all, it was a sign that proved that his exercises were showing some effect. He was getting stronger every day. Three days ago he'd still needed help to get from the bed into the wheelchair, now he easily managed on his own. It was a new day that would bring new success. Trip sat up and pushed his legs over the side of the bed. That was something he couldn't do yet without the help of his hands; his legs were still too weak for that. But there was something else he could do. Positioning his feet in front of the bed, he reached out for a handhold and slowly pushed himself up. Inch by inch he pulled himself into a standing position, and then, taking a deep breath, he let go and began to count. After four seconds his legs surrendered and his knees gave way. Four seconds until he fell back onto his bunk like a dead weight. Four seconds that he'd been standing on his own legs, with no one supporting him as he did so. A good way to start the day, Trip thought as he pulled up his wheelchair. Now a shower to drive away the drowsiness, and he was ready to tackle another day.

* * *

 

Trip was sitting at his desk in Engineering, looking through gamma shift reports. There was a whole lot of work to do. The energy impulse he'd overloaded the engines with three weeks ago when Enterprise had been caught in the tractor beam of those aliens had done more damage than he'd originally thought it would. Every now and then relays would short-circuit because some power grid had gone out of alignment, and the engineering crew had to make all kinds of recalibrations. Trip hated to be stuck in that wheelchair that kept him from climbing around in the upper level as he usually did. Some of his crew had offered to make some modifications like installing a second lift to give him access to the warp core, but Trip had declined. He didn't want to make any concessions to his condition, especially since it seemed to be only temporary anyway. It wouldn't pay off to invest any of his crew's time or work in it.

Trip looked at the padd in his hand, then put it down on the table. He needed to get to the upper level. With one glance he could make out Crewmen Kelly and Rostov working up there. Alright, they would be able to help him. He threw a look over his shoulder at the lift, but it was way on the other side of the room. The stairs leading to the upper level had solid steel banisters on each side, just like the parallel bars in the gym. It should be manageable. Thoughtful, Trip let his gaze linger on the two steel bars, letting his tongue wander from one side of his mouth to the other. Phlox was going to be livid mad, but if he managed to get up there, then there wasn't much the doc could say, was there? He wasn't trying anything reckless, he knew he could do it.

Trip positioned the wheelchair at the bottom of the stairs and set his feet on the ground. He would have to get up without Malcolm's help. Taking a deep breath, Trip reached for the banisters and pulled himself up with a jerk. Now that hadn't been too hard. He was standing. For a moment, dizziness blurred the image in front of his eyes, and when his vision had cleared again so he was able to take a good look at the stairs, he wondered what had gotten into him. There was a difference between taking a few steps on even ground with two parallel bars for support and climbing up a staircase. How the hell was he supposed to lift his feet high enough to put them on the first step? But he couldn't go back now. He hadn't locked the brakes on the wheelchair, it would slide away under him if he tried to sit down in it. There was only the way up for him.

Slowly, mobilizing all his willpower, he lifted his right foot until he was able to set it down on the first step. Grabbing the railing with both his hands, he pulled with all his might until he was standing upright again. To his surprise, it worked quite well. He secured his footing. The first step was done. Any moment, he expected to hear a member of his crew yelling and asking what he was doing, but strangely enough his little experiment went completely unnoticed. Trip pulled himself up to the second step, then to the third. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his breathing came in short gasps. The muscles in his arms and legs began to ache and he prayed that they wouldn't fail him now. Falling down the stairs in an undignified heap was the last thing he needed right now. Slowly, Trip began to realize that maybe he shouldn't have started this, but going back was totally out of question. He was more than half the way up already. His feet seemed to be sticking to the step he was standing on. Trip had the impression of being stuck in a swamp that wasn't about to let go. He almost expected to hear a slurping sound as he finally managed to get his foot off the floor. His arms were beginning to tremble from the strain. But he'd put another step behind him. Three left to go. Kelly and Rostov appeared in his field of vision, discussing some problem or other with their backs turned to him. Trip pulled himself up on the next step, and knew that he couldn't go on. Now his legs were trembling as well, and he had a hard time keeping them under control. And it seemed impossible to push his hands any further up on the banisters. Sweat was dripping from his forehead into his eyes, and for a moment he had the impression that he wasn't getting enough air to breathe. Almost there, and he was simply stuck. He couldn't go on, and could literally feel how his last energy reserves dissipated. Something had to be done, and immediately so, otherwise he would take a rather inglorious leave down the stairs.

"Mike!" he whispered hoarsely.

Rostov whirled around and his eyes widened. "Chief! What are you doing?" he exclaimed, but fortunately his surprise didn't keep him from reacting quickly. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Trip's upper body, hauling him over the last two steps up onto the gallery. With Kelly's help he let the commander slide down onto the floor and studied Trip's pale face with a worried frown.

Trip's head was swimming, the blood pounding in his ears. All of a sudden he was definitely positive that his idea had been a bad one. Through a layer of hazy unawareness, he heard Lieutenant Hess who'd just appeared from behind a corner and was demanding to know what had happened.

"The chief climbed up the stairs," Kelly explained to her.

"The stairs?" Hess repeated, astonished. "Not bad!" She frowned, kneeling down next to her CO. "But don't you think that was... a little dangerous?"

"Depends on who you ask," Trip panted, squeezing his eyes shut against the dizziness. He had trouble getting his breathing and his trembling muscles back under control. He took a deep breath. "Phlox won't be happy, but I think for a cripple it wasn't so bad," he managed just before the colors in front of his eyes started to blur and turn into a deep blackness that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Cripple, nonsense." Hess smiled, but her expression quickly changed to a serious one as she saw Trip's eyes roll up. "Commander! Don't pass out on me!" she exclaimed, patting Trip's cheek. "Stay with us! Hey, Chief..."

It was no use. With a last sigh Trip lost his balance and fell against Kelly who caught him, giving Hess a questioning look.

"Great," the young woman said, getting to her feet. "That's just what he needs right now." She let out a sigh and gave Rostov a short nod. "You call the doctor, I'm gonna tell the captain."

* * *

 

Sickbay. He knew where he was even before he'd fully returned to consciousness. During the last few weeks he'd been here too often not to recognize the smell and the feeling of the bio bed under his back. It wouldn't come as a surprise to him if Phlox had already labeled it with a name tag, considering how frequently he tended to occupy it.

Tentatively, he opened his eyes but quickly shut them again when he glimpsed Jon looking down at him.

"Too late," he heard the captain say, the voice sounding quite disgruntled.

Sighing, Trip looked up at him. "What happened?" he asked.

"You don't remember?"

With his eyes, Trip followed Phlox' motions as the doctor ran a med scanner over him. "I climbed up the stairs in Engineerin'," he recalled.

"And you're proud of it, aren't you?" Captain Archer flared up. "I should give you a good hiding for..."

"Captain, please," Phlox interrupted, and Jon bit his lip, taking a deep breath.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he continued in a calmer tone of voice. "Are you out of your mind, to try something like that?"

"I thought I could do it." A little unsure, Trip looked up at Jon. He didn't quite know what to make of the captain's outburst. Nothing had happened to him, after all.

"It would have been more impressive if you hadn't collapsed afterwards." Phlox studied the readings on the bio bed's screen with a concentrated expression on his face.

Jon gave him a questioning look, but when he didn't continue, the captain turned back to Trip. "Can you move?" he asked, his tone a lot more gentle now.

"Move?" At that, Trip flinched. "Sure. Why not?" As if to prove it he raised his hand and waved it in front of Jon's face.

"What about the rest?" Jon's voice was calm, but Trip found the worried look in his eyes to be quite unsettling. Methodically, he checked his body, rolled his shoulders and pulled in his stomach. His muscles gave slight protest, but did what he wanted. Everything was as it should be. But then, Trip felt as if all his insides had disappeared in one instant.

"What is it?" Jon asked as he saw Trip's expression change.

"My legs," Trip said simply. It couldn't be. They had been moving before, they should be moving now. Dammit, do something, move, I know you can do it! he pleaded silently, but although he could still feel them, his legs didn't react at all, lying under the blanket like two lifeless sticks. For a moment, the shock made Trip feel as if he was suffocating. It simply couldn't be!

"It was to be expected," Phlox said. "You suffered a relapse, Commander."

"What do you mean, relapse?"

"Your body needs you to rest, and since you neglected to do just that, it just shut down."

"So you're sayin' it's my own fault?"

"Well... it's not unusual that a relapse will occur. Actually, it's normal. But I do have to say that you took on a little too much these last few days."

"But it worked! I could almost walk again. Damn, I could..." Trip's voice failed him as he fought against the dry sobs rising in his throat. Looking at Jon's worried face, he almost lost that fight. In this situation, Trip definitely preferred the angry captain over the compassionate friend.

"And what now?" he asked, after he'd successfully gotten rid of the lump in his throat. "It's gonna start all over again?"

"No, Commander, you only experienced a minor relapse."

"Minor? I can't move my legs, doc." Trip didn't know whether he was supposed to scream or to cry. All his efforts had been for nothing. All the exhausting exercises he'd taken on to be able to walk again, how could it be that they'd resulted in the exact opposite? He'd been making good progress, how could it be that his body failed him like that now of all times?

Jon interrupted his train of thoughts. "You should be glad that you're still able to move at all. Phlox was afraid..." The captain trailed off, swallowing as Trip gave him a horrified look. Jon was right. Considering the events of the past few weeks, he realized that it could have been a lot worse. But that thought wasn't helping him now, either.

"Please lift your arms, Commander," Phlox said. Trip gave him a puzzled look but lifted his arms all the same, waving them in front of Phlox' face and lowering them again.

"Longer, Commander. Just hold them up as long as you can."

Trip found that to be a rather weird request, but all the same did what Phlox had told him. Soon he realized what the doctor was getting at. Already after a few seconds his arms felt too heavy to hold them up only a moment longer. He clenched his teeth as his arms started to tremble uncontrollably.

"That's okay," Phlox said, indicating him to lower his arms. With a sigh of relief, Trip let them fall onto the blanket. This was getting scarier every minute. Would his arms fail him again as well?

"Don't worry, Commander," Phlox said in a reassuring tone of voice as if he'd been reading Trip's thoughts. "Your body's in a state of extreme exhaustion. You need to rest, and maybe stop your exercises for a few days, then you will feel better soon."

"But you came up with these exercises, Phlox. How could they have this effect?"

"I can't remember including the climbing of staircases in your exercise schedule, Commander. But as I said, don't worry, in a few weeks you'll have reached your former state of recuperation."

"In a few weeks?" Trip exclaimed, propping himself up on one elbow.

Gently, Jon pushed him back down onto the bio bed. "Now stop it," he said, not unfriendly. "You mustn't rush this. I know you're not the most patient person on Earth, but it won't do you any good to get upset now. Get some rest. Maybe things aren't as bad as they look, after all."

Trip gave no answer but he did as he'd been told, laying back on the bio bed and closing his eyes. How could Jon be saying something like that? Not as bad. He'd been dreaming of being able to get rid of the wheelchair in the next few days. His little experiment in Engineering had given him a taste of former times, when he'd still been able to walk. But now the paralysis was back. He was back to square one.

* * *

 

When he woke up, he saw Malcolm sitting beside his bed. He was smiling. "How do you feel?"

"Alright, I think, considerin' that it could be much worse."

"I'm sorry, Trip." Malcolm lowered his eyes. "I knew that you've been taking on too much. I should have at least tried to hold you back."

"Malcolm, please don't go blamin' yourself. I'm too busy blamin' myself already."

"Well, you tried to get back on your feet." Malcolm shrugged. "And it worked, too. You were making a good progress in the last few days. Nobody expected a relapse. Not even Phlox."

"Phlox expected me to do my exercises, not to try a stupid stunt like that."

"Well, look at the bright side. You're once again the hero of your engineering crew."

"Nonsense."

"Well, you are. The whole ship knows about you climbing up that staircase."

"And collapsed when I had reached the top."

"Nobody cares about that."

"I do."

"All the same, the crew is impressed by your determination. And your spirit of adventure."

Trip sighed. "The cap'n didn't seem very impressed. He wanted to give me a good hidin', as he put it."

Malcolm looked down to hide the broad grin spreading on his face. "I know."

"You do?"

"I'm afraid Liz Cutler overheard your... conversation. The captain's just worried about you, Trip." Malcolm sighed. "As am I."

"Seems to be gettin' some kind of a habit."

Malcolm smiled sadly. "Can I get you anything?"

"You can get me outta here. I'm sick of sickbay."

"I don't know if Phlox will agree."

"He won't." Phlox' voice came from behind, and a moment later the doctor stepped up beside the bed. "You need to rest, Commander."

"I can rest in my quarters. Better than here, actually, since I won't have to worry about bats attackin' me."

"My bat is in her cage, and besides she's a nocturnal creature," Phlox said indignantly. "It won't do you any good arguing with me, Commander, you're staying here where I can keep you under observation."

"What if the commander promises to stay in bed?" Malcolm persisted. "You know you can take his word for it."

Phlox sighed. "At the moment, Commander Tucker doesn't even have the strength to get from the wheelchair into his bed. Besides, that's the kind of exertion he should avoid for the next twenty-four hours."

"I could help him," Malcolm said. "Not a problem."

Thoughtfully, Phlox looked from the tactical officer to the chief engineer. During the few days when the commander had been fully paralyzed, Reed had proven multiple times that he could take care of him.

"C'mon, doc," Trip pleaded as he saw the doctor's determination waver. "I'll be good, promise."

Phlox sighed. "Very well. You can take him to his quarters, Lieutenant. But I'll be holding you responsible if he doesn't stay in bed." Phlox kept talking to Malcolm, but threw a pointed look at Trip. "It'll probably be best to put the wheelchair out of his reach."

When Phlox had left, Malcolm helped Trip to sit up and put his feet on the floor. "I don't think the doctor thinks very highly of your word," he said, smiling, wrapping his arms around Trip's upper body and helping him sit down in the wheelchair.

Trip grimaced. "Seems like he doesn't. Could you hand me a blanket? There's no need to parade me around in my underwear. Bein' ship's gossip once a day's enough for me."

Malcolm swallowed a sarcastic remark and handed Trip a blanket, then got the engineer to his quarters.

Trip would never have told anyone, but he was quite glad when he was finally lying in bed again. He felt as weak as a kitten and he was dizzy again, too. His quarters seemed to be spinning around him. Sleepily he watched Malcolm place the wheelchair beside the desk, well out of his reach. "You're not serious, are ya?"

"Doctor's orders." Malcolm smiled. "To be honest, I don't really trust you either."

"Hey c'mon, you can't do that! What if I have to use the bathroom?"

Malcolm indicated the comm over the bed. "You can call me. I'll be here as fast as I can."

"And what if you're busy shootin' aliens?" Trip asked grumpily.

"Then I'll send Hoshi." Malcolm grinned as he saw Trip's shocked expression.

"Harhar, very funny," Trip grumbled, but secretly he was glad that Malcolm, at least, wasn't mollycoddling him but teasing him as usual. "Now get yourself outta here, Malcolm, before the cap'n starts lookin' for you. Let me sleep."

"You're not going to try any more heroic deeds?"

"I won't, Mal, promise." Trip sighed inwardly. He was in no condition to try anything and his protests were pretty much faked to try and save what little pride he had left. His friends didn't seem to realize exactly how exhausted the relapse had left him, only Phlox knew with certainty what his condition was exactly. Malcolm's measures to keep him in bed were unnecessary. Once again Trip was completely dependent on his friends to help him. He seriously hoped there would be an end to that soon. He closed his eyes and slowly slipped away into slumber, not noticing when Malcolm quietly left his quarters only a short time later.


	3. Chapter 3

Jon Archer sighed inwardly when he saw Trip sitting at the window. Observation Deck was only dimly lit, so that Jon only recognized by the wheelchair that it was Trip staring out the window at the stars passing by. For a moment, Jon stood in the doorway, silently watching his friend. Since his break-down two days ago Trip had recovered his strength, but his hopes that he might regain the ability to move his legs had been disappointed. Trip avoided the crew, staying in his quarters most of the time, and he didn't even turn up for dinner in the captain's mess, having his meals brought to him by a steward. Jon found this depressive mood to be quite worrisome. The way Trip sat there with his shoulders slumping, misery seemed to exude from his every pore, and Jon was certain that despite his intense staring he wasn't taking in any of the endless space that was passing by outside the window. Phlox had told him that it was perfectly normal for Trip to be dispirited after the relapse, but in Jon's opinion it was time to face the facts. Even when his condition had been life-threatening, Trip hadn't acted like this. Even when he'd been lying on a bio bed, unable to move a muscle, he'd found it in him to joke about his situation. Jon didn't understand why a simple relapse would affect Trip so much. Looking at his friend, it seemed to him that there was a dark cloud hanging over Trip's head.

He pulled up a chair and sat beside his friend. "Hey Trip, I've been looking for you."

"Seems like you found me," Trip said in a low voice, not looking at his friend.

Jon studied the chief engineer. "Phlox told me you're fit for duty," he began carefully.

"Right." Trip snorted, but he was still staring into the darkness outside. "Light duties. Two hours in the mornin' and two in the afternoon. Rest in between."

"It'll do you good."

Trip grimaced. "Why can't y'all just stop mollycoddlin' me? Ever since I relapsed everybody except T'Pol's treatin' me as if I was fragile or somethin'. And at the same time you're actin' as if nothin's happened. I have to say that in the meantime, I almost prefer the Vulcan way. It's honest, if nothin' else."

Jon gave no response, but watched Trip staring out the window until his friend finally turned around. "What's wrong, Trip?" he asked then.

"What's wrong?" Trip gave him an incredulous look. "That's kind of a stupid thing to ask, isn't it?" He lowered his gaze. "Sorry Cap'n."

"No problem, Trip, we're not on duty. Right now, we're just two friends who can speak what's on their minds." Jon paused, but when Trip didn't react he continued. "I'm sorry, Trip, but I don't get you." He sighed. "I mean, of course I understand why you're frustrated about the relapse. But don't take it out on the crew. Nobody's treating you as if you weren't valuable to Enterprise anymore, that's only in your imagination. We're simply worried, because you're not behaving like the Trip Tucker we know. Even T'Pol is concerned."

"T'Pol?"

"Yes, Trip. You should know by now that she as well cares about you. Didn't you say yourself that without her help, you would have suffocated long before I got the cure to sickbay? But she doesn't know what to make of your behavior, either. Honestly, Trip, there's no reason to let it get you down so very much. No one was expecting such a fast recovery. And if you're honest with yourself, Trip, you didn't either. Dammit, two weeks ago you were lying in sickbay, unable even to move your head, you couldn't even breathe on your own. But even then I could see your will to fight. What has happened to it? Even when you thought you were going to die you weren't as... depressed as you are now. Is it only because of the relapse? Don't you see that you've come a long way in a short time? Phlox said from the beginning that it would take a long time until your recovery's completed. This relapse might be sort of a blow for you, but it's no reason to let yourself go like this."

"You're probably right," Trip said and turned back to the window. Jon was silent. Such a simple agreement he hadn't expected. How was he supposed to help Trip if his friend wasn't talking to him?

"It's okay, Jon," Trip said into the silence. "Just... leave me alone."

Studying his friends face, Jon realized that his lecture hadn't been what his friend had needed to hear. Trip wasn't only depressed about the relapse, there was more to it. He was afraid. Jon put a hand on Trip's arm. "No, I won't leave you alone for you to go on brooding like this. Tell me what's wrong. It's not that you'll have to wait a little longer until you can walk again, is it?"

Trip didn't look at him, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Talk to me, Trip! What's on your mind? What is it you're afraid of?"

"Afraid?"

"Yes, afraid. Don't tell me you aren't, I know you well enough to see it."

Trip looked down, studying his hands.

"I'm not leaving before you told me." Jon waited patiently, until finally his friend took a deep breath and turned to look at him.

"Where will it take me from here, Jon?" Trip asked in a flat voice. "What will happen when I take up my exercises again? My work? Will I relapse every time I put a little strain on myself? I mean, two lengths at the parallel bars and one staircase are not exactly what I'd call exertin'."

"In your current condition it is."

"That's my point, Jon. Will that condition ever change again? Ever since I'm able to move again, I'm tired all the time. No matter how much sleep I get, I'm tired. It's gotten even worse since the relapse. Sometimes I'm so exhausted that I almost can't keep my eyes open. Sometimes I don't know where to take the energy from that I need to work through my shifts in Engineerin'. I tried to ignore it, but it won't work. That's not normal, Jon. And it doesn't feel as if it's gettin' better. And I'm wonderin' if it's gonna stay that way. The aliens might have been right about the cure restorin' my full ability to move, but will it stay? They didn't say anythin' about my strength. What if I relapse every time I try to put a little strain on my body? What if I keep breakin' down at work? Will I always have to keep that wheelchair nearby because my legs can't carry my weight? Will I be weak and useless like this for the rest of my life? How d'you think Starfleet's gonna react? Can you tell me that, Cap'n?"

"I think you're exaggerating things a little, Trip."

"Oh, am I? Can you prove me wrong? Did the aliens say anythin' about these things? As far as I know they were only talkin' about my ability to move. Okay, the paralysis receded. I don't doubt it that it'll be gone sooner or later. But who says it's not goin' to come back? That it'll be there, dormant maybe but there? You know as well as I do that the aliens didn't have time to test the antidote. They knew almost nothin' about our physiology. The poison itself didn't work as it was supposed to, remember? It should have had an immediate paralyzin' effect on my whole body without affectin' my respiration. And what happened? Only my legs were paralyzed, and then, almost two weeks later, it began to spread to the rest of my body. And it did affect my respiration. Maybe the cure won't work the way they said it would, either."

"Don't you think it's a little early to be considering things like that?"

Trip swallowed. "It's kinda funny, Jon, you know... at that time..." Trip chuckled, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Do you realize that it's not yet four weeks ago that we were on that moon? Seems like forever to me. What I wanted to say, at that time, I hated the wheelchair, especially when it looked like I was goin' to be usin' it for the rest of my life. At the time, when I couldn't move at all anymore, I would've been happy if I had been able to use it, and when I was hooked up to the respirator, the only thing I wanted was bein' able to breathe on my own and talk to you. It always depends on which situation you're in. Sure, now I'm much better off than two weeks ago, and I know I should be grateful, but I was convinced that I was gonna make a full recovery. I was sure I was not only gonna get back my ability to move but also my strength. But right now I have to force every single movement. My muscles seem sluggish, clumsy. Everythin' feels different. That can't be normal, can it?"

"I don't know, Trip," Jon said. "But still I don't think your condition's permanent."

"Maybe not. But maybe it is. You're right, I'm afraid. I can't do anythin' about it. What use is an engineer who suffers a relapse every time he takes on a little work? Whose legs can't carry his weight? Who's maybe not strictly wheelchair-bound, but who will always need it somewhere nearby? Someone like that has no place on a starship, Jon. And back on Earth they also have better people."

"Stop it, Trip! You only get yourself down thinking about stuff like that. You simply suffered a relapse. Phlox told me that's nothing unusual. And considering that all of this happened only a few weeks ago, your paralysis isn't that long ago, your exhaustion is understandable. Your body's recuperating slowly and you need to give it time and see what's going to happen." Archer tried to give his face an encouraging expression but knew that Trip saw right through him. Jon was deeply worried, for Trip was right. The aliens hadn't said anything about Trip getting back to his old strength or not. Nobody knew whether he would be dependent on the wheelchair for the rest of his life or not. They had never considered that possibility before, but now it had crossed not only Trip's mind. Jon pictured his friend moving slowly, carefully putting one foot in front of the other and avoiding any kind of exertion to spare himself further relapses. And all of a sudden he knew why Trip was staring out the window with such a discouraged expression on his face.

* * *

 

Malcolm was also worried about his friend these days. Trip had regained some of his strength, but he seemed to have lost his confidence. When doing his exercises, he let Malcolm do the work and contributed as little as possible, and the parallel bars he didn't even look at. The thing that Malcolm found to be the most worrisome, though, was the fact that Trip didn't even try to go around Phlox' orders and stay longer in Engineering. He worked his two hours in the morning and the afternoon and spent the rest of the day holed up in his quarters which he left only if Malcolm was being persistent enough, bugging the engineer to come with him to the gym or mess hall. Malcolm didn't quite know how to deal with this changed Trip. Teasing him wouldn't work anymore. Most of the times Trip didn't even notice when Malcolm tried to pull his legs, or he didn't react at all. Even the glint in his eyes had disappeared, they seemed dull and lifeless. Malcolm was sure that Trip was afraid of another relapse. A relapse that would probably throw him back even further this time. Malcolm could understand him very well. This recent event had shocked Trip and, in a quite merciless way, had shown him that he hadn't come as far yet as he'd thought. But like Jon he didn't understand why Trip, who'd been so optimistic facing the worst, would let something like this get him down so much. It wasn't Trip's way.

Malcolm didn't dare to talk to Trip about it, though. He didn't know how Trip would react, being in the mood he currently was in. But he knew that letting himself go in such a way wasn't doing Trip any good. He needed something to occupy himself, something to concentrate on. Some time ago, when Phlox had told Trip that there was nothing he could do about the paralysis of his legs, the engineer hadn't had the time to indulge in broodings. They'd all been quite busy trying to protect Enterprise from the attack of those aliens. That was it. Trip needed something to do. He had too much time on his hands to spend on pondering on his situation. His crew in Engineering was getting along quite well without him. Malcolm suspected that yet again, Trip was feeling useless, like he had when he'd thought that the crew didn't think him a valuable crewmember anymore because of his paralyzed legs. Was that the reason why he was avoiding his friends? Malcolm sighed. And people were telling him he was complicated. Was there anything he could do to divert Trip from his dark thoughts, to make him feel useful again? Blowing up Engineering came to his mind, but even though it was a tempting thought, Malcolm realized it might be little over the top.

"ETA to the nebula two minutes, Sir," Travis announced from the helm.

"Go back to impulse, ensign," Archer said, then got up to get a better view of the phenomenon that had shown up on the long range scanners two days ago. A wide-spread, seemingly never-ending cloud was hanging in space in front of Enterprise, blocking her way. They never encountered something as huge as this before. Churning and fluorescing, it was quite a sight to see. While the bridge crew was still taking in the view, T'Pol was already bending down over her scanners to tell the captain the nebula's components.

Malcolm half-listened to her reciting the different gases, his thoughts still with Trip. Under normal circumstances he would be here on the bridge with them to see the nebula, but at the moment he didn't seem to be interested. Malcolm sighed, returning his attention to T'Pol and her scanning results. This was not the time to allow his thoughts to wander.

"I cannot clearly determine the exact diameter of the nebula since the scanners are being deflected," the Vulcan science officer announced. "The gases seem to solidify towards the center, although I cannot say for sure. The data is imprecise."

"Imprecise?" Archer raised his eyebrows.

"The readings are diffused. I cannot identify the exact values. The further I try to extend the scanning range into the nebula, the more inexact are the readings I get. Some of the data is inconsistent. The fringes of the nebula seem to be gaseous, but there appears some solid matter further toward the center. It might be simple spatial debris, or maybe the gases' solidification has this effect. The matter seems to be interspersed with gaseous canals. I apologize that I cannot give you any exact, Captain."

"What kind of canals? Could we pass through them?"

T'Pol checked her scanners. "Not with Enterprise. The narrowest canal I read is approximately eight mark three meters in diameter, the broadest thirteen mark eight."

"A shuttle might do the trick, if it's maneuvered carefully," Malcolm suggested. Archer turned around.

"Hold that thought, Lieutenant. First, launch a probe. I'd like to know a little more before we fly into an unknown nebula."

* * *

 

The probe confirmed of T'Pol's readings. The fringes of the nebula were gaseous, while the core seemed to consist of solid matter. However, before the probe had gone far enough to provide detailed readings about that core, it disappeared. T'Pol suggested that it might have crashed, or that the data transmission was being prevented by the nebula's interference. A second probe led to the same results.

Archer gave Malcolm a nod. "Prepare a pod, Lieutenant. You're going to accompany me. Let's go and take a closer look at this particular phenomenon."

"Are you sure this is wise, Captain?" T'Pol asked. "We do not know why the probes have disappeared."

"That's what I'm trying to find out, T'Pol." Archer got up from his chair. "Maybe we can figure out a way to widen these canals so we can pass through them with Enterprise. The way through the nebula is a lot shorter than around it. I think you will agree on that."

"It is shorter. However, I do not think there is a possibility of widening these canals."

"Well, we'll see." Archer gave the Vulcan a short nod. "I'll be in my ready room."

Archer was looking at the nebula on his desk screen when his door bell chimed. He called, and the door slid aside to let Malcolm in.

"The shuttle's ready, sir," the lieutenant said.

"Thank you." Jon nodded. "Any idea how we could widen these canals enough for Enterprise to fit through them?"

"To know that we need to determine more precisely what kind of gases there are in that nebula. Photon radiation might do the trick, but we'll have to take more scans to know for sure." Malcolm took a deep breath. "Sir, I..." He trailed off.

"Yes Lieutenant?" Archer raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Sure, go on, Lieutenant."

"Sir, I've been wondering... is there any particular reason why you assigned me for this mission?"

Jon gave his tactical officer a slightly surprised look. Was Reed questioning his choice of team members? "What are you getting at?"

Malcolm was clearly feeling uncomfortable. "If it isn't absolutely necessary that I take part in the away mission, you might consider taking Trip along instead of me."

"Trip?"

"Indeed, Captain. He needs something to do. Ever since his relapse he's done nothing but sitting around and brooding, getting stuck on the idea that we think he's useless. He needs something to occupy himself, or he will never get any better."

"I agree, Lieutenant. But do you really think it's a good idea to send him on an away mission? Something unexpected might happen."

"It's always a possibility, sir. But it seems that with the usual routine on Enterprise, Trip feels that he's not needed. He needs to be given a job that's not routine. Besides, he doesn't want people to make amendments to his condition. And I don't think that his not being able to walk will be a problem on this mission."

Jon gave the lieutenant a thoughtful look. "Do you think he's up to it? Physically, I mean?"

"It doesn't sound like a particularly straining job, sir. But if you want me to, I can talk to Phlox about it."

"I'll do that, Malcolm. I got a better idea. I'll let Trip command the mission. I think you're more creative than I am when it comes to finding a way to widen these canals." Jon smiled. "Especially when something like blowing up photons is involved. If it's alright with you to go on that mission together with Trip..." He trailed off.

"Of course, Captain. If Trip has something to concentrate on, he might find it in him to put his depression behind."

"I hope so. I'll talk to Phlox, and then I'll tell Trip about it."

* * *

 

Trip lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He felt drop dead tired, but he couldn't sleep, there were too many things keeping his mind occupied. Something was wrong. It couldn't be normal to be so tired all the time, could it? When had it started? After Phlox had injected him with the antidote, he hadn't noticed any of that strange exhaustion. But then, the first two days he hadn't yet been able to move, and had been lying in bed all the time. As soon as he had concentrated on his exercises, however, trying to get back on his feet a little sooner, the tiredness had set in, and now after the relapse it was worse than ever. He found that after a two-hours-shift in Engineering, he was glad when he was able to take a short or maybe not so short nap. He still enjoyed his work in Engineering, but after his shift, he was simply beat. It made him feel useless. His crew had been treating him with exaggerated care ever since his relapse. Crewmembers of lower ranks didn't come to him when they needed help, asking Hess instead. Trip realized that they were trying to make things easier for him, but he didn't want that kind of treatment. He wanted to know that he was needed, and at the moment, he certainly didn't feel that way. Truth be told, Trip felt useless in his own department, and that even worsened his depressed mood. Worst of all was the fact that he couldn't bring himself to change something about it. The only thing he would have to do was go back to exercising, participating in social life on Enterprise instead of sitting in his quarters all day and getting on everybody's nerves. Trip knew that, but he was just so tired. Small talk with his crewmates was the last thing he needed, especially because there seemed to be only one topic: his condition. And his condition was the last thing he wanted to talk about. He was ashamed because of his relapse; and knowing that it was an irrational feeling didn't change anything about that. His own impatience was the reason why his body had shut down. It was his own fault that he still needed that wheelchair.

The door chime interrupted his train of thoughts. Trip considered not answering, but whoever it was standing outside his quarters knew that he was in here.

"Come in," he said, and propped himself up on his elbows as he saw the captain enter.

"You're taking a nap?" Jon asked.

"Doctor's orders."

"Well, not anymore." Jon sat down on the edge of the bed. "I got a job for you."

"A job?" Trip raised his eyebrows.

"Just an away mission with Malcolm."

"Away mission?" Trip shook his head. "You're not serious, are you?"

"Yes, I am. Phlox agreed to let you go. It's only a short trip with shuttlepod one." Jon handed Trip a padd. "The data about the nebula. Quite interesting. The thing we want to find out is whether there's a possibility to make these canals in the cloud passable for Enterprise."

"And you want to send Malcolm and me?"

"Why not? My two finest officers should manage, don't you think?"

Trip snorted. "Finest officers. Whose idea was that?"

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon, Cap'n. I can't have been your first choice."

"To be honest, first I wanted to go myself, but then I figured I could just as well save myself the trouble and assign you to the mission."

"You're not jumpin' at the chance to explore a nebula? Sorry, but I'm not buyin' that."

"That's enough, Commander." Jon's voice changed from friend to captain. "I assigned you to the mission, and you're going on the mission. It's not open for debate. I want you to finally get out of that bed and do something."

"I'm so tired, Jon."

Archer bit his lip at the weary tone of Trip's voice. Maybe this was a mistake, after all. On the other hand, even Phlox agreed that Trip needed something to do.

"It'll get better as soon as you start doing something, Trip. You can't keep lying in bed all the time. Come on, this isn't like you. Now get up. You need any help?"

Trip shook his head. "That's alright, I'll manage."

"Well, then hurry. We'll meet you in launch bay one."

Trip sat up and pulled the wheelchair closer. Archer had already turned to go when the engineer called him back. "Cap'n?"

"What is it?"

"Malcolm an' me in shuttlepod one. You sure that's a good idea?"

Jon chuckled. That was more like Trip. "The best," he said, smiling.

* * *

 

Trip had taken a quick shower and when he arrived in launch bay one, he felt more or less awake. Jon looked up and gave him a smile. "You took your time, didn't you?"

"Cripples ain't that fast," Trip answered and bit his lip when he saw Jon's expression change. Damn, he was whining like a little kid. He didn't really know why he was acting like this. Jon was right, this was not his usual way to behave. Time to shake off the moodiness and concentrate on his job. Trip straightened his shoulders a little and gave Jon a lopsided grin. "It's okay, Cap'n. Just tell me how to get into the pod."

Malcolm appeared in the shuttle's hatch. "With a little help from your friends, Commander. You can even choose your seat. Helm or scanner station?"

"You can take the helm, Malcolm. I'll enjoy the view."

"I guess I'll have to disappoint you. You won't have much time for sightseeing." Jon slid his arms around Trip's upper body while Malcolm took the engineer's legs. "I want you to get me precise data about the nebula, and some results, plus a suggestion how to fit Enterprise through the canals." They hauled Trip into the shuttlepod and sat him into the seat at the scanner console.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just fly around the whole thing?" Trip asked, shifting a little until he was comfortable.

"It's quite a detour," Archer said. "That nebula's huge. We'd need six days at the least to go around it. And besides, we're explorers, aren't we? T'Pol's confused data can't satisfy me. I'd like to have some detailed readings, and it looks like we're getting those only from the inside."

"Oh dear. That's what we said last time, and that mission was a complete disaster."

Jon patted Trip on the shoulder. "Well, try your best so it won't turn into one this time." He was already half out of the hatch when he turned around once more to look at the two officers. "Be careful, alright?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Nice to have you on board," Malcolm said as he set course for the giant churning nebula.

"Didn't have much of a choice, did I?" Trip grumbled. "I'd really like to know whose stupid idea it was to send me on an away mission with these useless legs."

"Stupid?" The way how Malcolm straightened his shoulders gave Trip the answer to his question. He didn't know if he should be mad at Malcolm or grateful for trying to help him break his lethargic mood.

"It's stupid to be relyin' on a man who can't walk, isn't it?" he asked. "If a conduit blows or somethin' unforeseen happens, you're on your own, because I'm stuck here in this chair."

"You mustn't think like that, Trip. You're still the best man for this mission. And no conduits are going to blow. The shuttle is in excellent condition."

"Unlike half of its crew." Even Trip himself didn't know why he kept bringing up the fact that he felt useless, or what he wanted Malcolm to say. He needed to stop feeling sorry for himself and getting on other people's nerves. With this mission, the captain had given him the chance to prove himself. And Trip felt that it was time to do that, not only show the others, but also himself that he was indeed useful. When Malcolm piloted the shuttle into the outer fringes of the gas corona, he turned to the sensor controls. On the display, he saw the sparks flying and the colors changing where the shuttle disturbed the particle flux in the nebula.

"Be careful with the debris, it's all over the place," he said.

"I'd really like to know why it's here, anyway. Looks like the nebula has assimilated an asteroid field."

"Quite possible. Maybe it's the rock that formed these canals."

"Interesting theory." Malcolm dodged a huge asteroid, operating the shuttle's helm with skilled movements. "But if there's debris clogging the canals, we have a problem."

"T'Pol did choose the widest one, didn't she?"

"Of course she did. ETA to this canal is about one hour. What's on the sensors?"

"Nothin' new yet." Trip looked at the fluorescing gas cloud. "The matter's solidifyin'."

"I noticed. It's like a swamp."

"Just watch out and don't fly us into a wall or somethin'."

"You'd be the first one to know." Malcolm concentrated on the controls. Maneuvering correctly was getting harder and harder. Charges were breaking all around them, and Malcolm got the feeling that he was flying through an impenetrable thunderstorm. Additionally, now and then he had to get out of the way of rocks and asteroids that were blocking their course. Malcolm was beginning to get a little worried. T'Pol had said that the canal was going to be wide enough for the shuttle to fit through, but they had no idea what the inside of these canals looked like. If there was debris in there as well, maneuvering might be difficult or impossible. He threw a short glance over his shoulder at Trip. His friend seemed a little less frustrated, now that he had something to concentrate on. It had been the right thing to do, asking the captain to send Trip on this mission. Malcolm looked back at the helm. It wasn't that easy to find T'Pol's canal. Colorful streaks were wavering before the pod's front window, and Malcolm wasn't quite sure if they would be able to fly through them. Besides, the electricity of the nebula was beginning to infiltrate the shuttlepod's systems. Again and again the relays sent sparks flying, but fortunately it didn't seem to affect the navigation controls yet.

Trip slid off his seat onto the floor, pulling himself up to the front on his elbows. Malcolm would have liked to help him, but piloting the pod demanded his full attention. The shuttle was jerking and shaking.

"You think we should turn around?" he asked Trip who was at the moment trying to push himself up into the co-pilot's seat, only succeeding in slipping and falling back onto the floor as the shuttle took a sudden leap forward. Swearing under his breath, he shook his head.

"No. I guess that once we're in that canal, it'll get less bumpy. Try to reach it before anythin' essential is damaged." Eventually, Trip managed to pull himself into the chair. "I'll run a diagnosis, see if anything's broken already."

Malcolm nodded, briefly squeezing his eyes shut against the glaring bolts of light outside. Visibility conditions couldn't have been much worse, his range of vision ranged from little to nothing. The nebula was getting more impenetrable with every meter, and only the sensors were telling Malcolm where and how to set his course. The shuttle was cutting a deep trail through the colorful streaks of the nebula.

"Are we already inside the canal?" Trip asked.

"Uh-huh." Malcolm nodded. "Gases are solidifying all around us."

"It's not a whole lot different in here." Trip raised his eyes from the controls to look out the window. "I've never seen somethin' like that before."

"I wouldn't advise to fly Enterprise in here."

"No, the cap'n can forget about that. The warp plasma would ignite the phosphor immediately."

"Phosphor?"

"Yeah, there's a whole lot of that stuff out there. It's quite dangerous as it is, not to mention the load of free ions flittin' about out there. I wouldn't know how to alter the gases so we can pass through with Enterprise. Guess the cap'n won't have any choice but to fly around it."

"Should we return to the ship?"

"Let's go on just a little bit further. Maybe the consistency of the gases will change some more. At least I want some data to bring home to T'Pol." Trip threw a glance at his controls and frowned. "You're speedin', Mal. This is not San Francisco Highway."

"Quarter impulse."

Trip shook his head. "Twice that at least."

"That's impossible," Malcolm said. "The display was probably damaged by the short-circuiting before."

Trip's posture was tense as he checked the sensors. "Shut down the engine, Malcolm."

"What?"

"Just do it."

"Engine shut down," Malcolm said, then turned his head to look at Trip as the shuttle presumed his former course without noticeably losing any speed.

"Reverse propulsion," Trip ordered.

The engines roared as Malcolm tried to slow the pod down. He partly succeeded, but couldn't bring the vessel to a complete stop.

"We're being drawn towards something," he stated. "I'm going to try and turn around."

"There's enough space in here," Trip agreed. "Try a flip."

Malcolm fought to pull the shuttle's snout up, and felt the controls vibrate under his fingertips as the shuttle shook, but it stayed on its course.

"What is this?" Malcolm gave Trip a questioning look. It was spooky, the way the shuttlepod was being pulled forward while neither of them could do anything about it.

"You'd be the first I'd tell if I knew." Trip chewed on his bottom lip. "Try reversin' propulsion again," he said then. "It seems, there's nothin' else we can do at the moment. Maybe it'll give us some extra time. I'll call Enterprise, see if T'Pol's got an idea."

Archer seemed quite alarmed as he heard the news. "And you have no idea what it is that's pulling you forward?"

"Not yet. But I'm afraid we'll know soon enough." Again, Trip checked his sensors. "I can tell you where it is, but not what it is. Any ideas? T'Pol?"

There was a short pause before Archer spoke up again. "T'Pol still can't penetrate the interferences, we're not getting any clear readings. And what you sent us isn't enough for a precise analysis."

"I thought so." Trip sighed. "Alright, I'll keep you posted." Trip cut the connection, looking up at Malcolm. "Any use in keepin' up reverse propulsion?"

"It's slowing us down a little, but we can't get away."

"Well, then there's nothin' we can do anyway. Switch to maneuverin' thrusters, that way we can at least dodge the asteroids. Let's see where this will take us."

* * *

 

The queasy feeling in Trip's stomach was getting more and more persistent. No matter what it was they were heading for, it couldn't be anything good. He was trying desperately to get any useful readings in the churning streaks of the nebula, but the sensor rays were being deflected. Slowly but steadily, the uncertainty was getting to him. They'd been in this canal for over an hour already, and they still didn't know where it was leading. For the umpteenth time Trip recalibrated the sensor settings... this time however, the controls responded, giving out useful readings. Frowning down at the screen in concentration, Trip tried to make sense of the data and numbers being displayed.

"Getting anything?" Malcolm asked.

"Yeah, but it's not very precise. Accordin' to these readings, whatever is ahead might be... some kind of gravitational anomaly."

"A gravitational anomaly?" Malcolm gave him an incredulous look. "In a nebula?"

"Seems so." Trip palmed the control panel. "Tucker to Enterprise."

"Go ahead," came the immediate response. Trip knew that the captain was waiting impatiently for news, but he also knew that what he was about to say wasn't anything Archer would want to hear.

"A gravitational anomaly?" Archer echoed Malcolm's earlier question, surprise clear in his voice.

"Right, Cap'n. And there's no way for us to keep away from it. We've tried. Unless we come up with somethin' real good real soon, there's no possibility of us not flyin' into that thing."

For a moment there was silence. They all knew that gravitational anomalies were absolutely unpredictable. This one might decide to transfer the shuttle to a far part of the galaxy, where Enterprise would never be able to find it. "I'll send you all data I can gather until we reach the anomaly," Trip said. "And when we're through, I'll drop a subspace amplifier to transfer as many readings of our new position as possible." If you're still in range then, he thought but didn't say. He knew that the same thought had crossed Jon's mind. He cut the connection and turned back to his readings.

"Any idea where the anomaly might take us?" Malcolm asked.

"No, nothin'. It's impossible to say. The interference is messin' with the sensors."

"Well, I've always wanted to know what the other quadrants look like."

Trip grimaced. "Hope it won't be that bad. I don't really want to get stranded somewhere in the galaxy. I still have to pick the movie for the next movie night."

Malcolm laughed, but the sound carried no humor. What were the odds that they would get back to Enterprise save and sound? The anomaly would pull them in, chew them through and spit them out at some random place anywhere in the galaxy. And it was impossible to say where exactly they would end up, and if the place was going to be in this galaxy at all.

"Look on the bright side, Mal," Trip said, grinning to cover up his nervousness. "It's not a wormhole. That means we'll probably stay in our own time."

* * *

 

Silently, the two men concentrated on their tasks. Malcolm was grimly trying to keep the shuttle on course so it wouldn't collide with the chunks of solidified gas that were floating around everywhere in the canal. Evasive maneuvers he'd long given up to try. In the meantime Trip worked on the sensors, trying to get as much data as possible to Enterprise. The subspace amplifier was ready, and Trip had also prepped a probe that would transmit their position as soon as the anomaly let them go. He set both to an automatic launch as soon as the shuttle would exit the anomaly.

Trip threw a side glance at Malcolm. The tactical officer was concentrating on his controls, a stoic expression on his face. Like Trip he wouldn't let his nervousness show, but Trip knew that Malcolm's nerves were as raw as his ones and that the Armory Officer was desperately trying to keep his rising panic under control. They had no idea what was awaiting them, heading for completely unknown space. Maybe towards danger. They might end up light years away from Enterprise, maybe even someplace where Enterprise couldn't reach them at all. And there wouldn't be a possibility to contact the ship, since the probe had only a limited range of transmission. Jon would look for them, Trip knew as much, but he wouldn't know where to start. Enterprise couldn't fly into the nebula to get information about the anomaly, the readings had shown that much. The gases and components would play havoc with the engines, even if the warp engine was not online. Trip looked up from his controls when he noticed Malcolm gesturing at something ahead of them. In a distance, the anomaly had shown up, looking like a deep black gash in the galaxy, the edges fluorescing in every color of the rainbow.

"Looks like the entrance to hell," Malcolm said in a low voice, once again trying to get the shuttle to change the course. The canal they were flying along led directly towards the black cut. Trip felt the short hair on his neck stand on end. Would that be the end? The problem wasn't only what would be awaiting them on the other side. Trip had tried again and again to get some readings from inside the anomaly, but the scanners weren't giving him any satisfactory results. He could only hope that the different gravitational forces inside the anomaly wouldn't tear the small shuttle to pieces. They needed a good piece of luck only to survive the trip through. Then there was the question of what was on the other side. The shuttle didn't hold an unlimited store of supply. They wouldn't be able to survive very long in this small metal box. If the anomaly pulled them out of immediate range of Enterprise they'd need to find a planet where they would be able to survive for a longer period of time. There were a whole lot of Minshara class planets out there, with a suitable atmosphere and all, but it would be pure and dumb luck if there was one in range of the shuttle when they came out of the anomaly. Then there was the fact that his legs made him a completely useless member of this party when it came to survival on an M-class planet. The worry for his friend would keep Malcolm from saving himself, he would refuse to leave Trip behind no matter what. Trip swallowed. He couldn't let that happen. He had to find a way to make Malcolm look after himself, maybe even leave Trip behind if there was no other way.

But the time to worry about that would come soon enough. Right now they needed to see where this anomaly was going to take them.

* * *

 

The shuttlepod picked up speed as they were pulled deeper into the gravitational field of the singularity. One last time Trip contacted Enterprise to tell the captain that in a few minutes' time they would enter the anomaly. He tried to make his voice sound steady and optimistic, even though he felt far from optimistic at the moment. He wouldn't say good-bye to Archer either, refusing to consider the possibility of them not returning. It was the uncertainty that was the worst thing about the whole business. He couldn't prepare himself for the danger ahead, since he didn't know of what nature that danger was. Watching Malcolm's stony features, he felt a small lurch as the shuttle was pulled into the anomaly.

"Let's rock an' roll," he murmured dryly, hoping Malcolm wouldn't hear the slight quiver in his voice.

The consoles began to hiss slightly as the shuttle sped through the anomaly fast enough for the two passengers to lose track of what was going on. The helm wasn't responding, neither were the scanners. The shuttle was shaken so badly that Trip and Malcolm had to hold on with both hands. They were flying blind. Both knew that the other one was scared shitless, but neither of them said anything about it. Time was stretching like chewing gum, and with every second the nervousness of the two men increased. It was a spooky thing, flying through complete blackness where even the stars were missing.

"I've always hated roller coasters," Malcolm murmured under his breath. His words echoed back from the inner walls of the shuttle and let his voice sound strangely distorted. "Wonder if we've already reached the end of the galaxy."

"I've no idea," Trip replied in an equally subdued voice. "I've lost all sense of time. We might have been on our way for five or fifty minutes, makes no difference to me. The sensors are completely dead."

"Helm's offline as well. My only hope is that it'll work again when we're through."

"If we get out at all. To me, it doesn't look like this thing has an end."

Malcolm knew exactly what Trip was talking about. He also had the impression of speeding down the road to hell, and who could say for sure if it wasn't hell awaiting them on the other side.

Suddenly the shuttle leaped forward, beginning to jerk. After a few tries Malcolm managed to get the computer online and the shuttle back under some sort of control. A fluorescing bolt of light blinded them for a second, then the pod calmed down again.

"Helm's back online," Malcolm reported curtly. A quick glance out the window showed him the same nebula as on the other side, only not as dense and lacking any canals.

"Sensor's are working as well," Trip answered. "We're out. Subspace amplifier and probe were launched as planned." He quickly operated his controls. "Try to get us out of this nebula, I'll try to find out where we are."

Reed set a course that would bring them out of the nebula, and let out a sigh of relief as the shuttle responded. He threw a tense look over his shoulder at Trip. The results of his scans would decide whether they lived or died. Suddenly, Trip raised his eyebrows.

"Interestin' region of space," he said. "T'Pol would be quite interested, I can imagine."

"I don't really care about interesting, Trip," Malcolm answered with an edge in his voice. "Do you know where we are?"

"I do." Trip raised his head. "It's quite amazin', but we've been..."

He didn't finish his sentence, when suddenly a hard blow sent the shuttle in a tumbling spiral.

"What the hell was that?"

The words weren't out of his mouth yet when a second blow followed. The shuttle shook and jerked, and behind them a conduit blew, sending sparks flying.

"We're in the middle of an asteroid field, Malcolm!" Trip shouted, checking his scanners.

"Damnit. Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Malcolm cursed under his breath. It wasn't Trip's fault, the commander could only scan one thing at a time. Suddenly, the nebula broke, and he was able to see in reality what Trip had on the scanners. They were in the middle of a field of large chunks of rock and small boulders which were moving in asymmetrical patterns, smashing into each other and sending debris flying in all directions. Malcolm had the impression that every single rock was heading for the small pod, and all of them seemed to have enough destructive force to crush the shuttle completely. It would be impossible to get through this without taking serious damage. He only hoped that the shuttle would not simply break apart.

"Looks even worse than the time the Romulans chased us through that minefield."

"The mines were more or less stationary," Malcolm said through clenched teeth. "All Travis needed to do was to fly around them. Out there we have a thousand bombs all waiting for a chance to place a good hit."

"The good thing about it is that this time you're not outside, pinned to the hull." Trip grimaced. This was not the time to be telling jokes. The odds of getting out of this unharmed were almost zero. Malcolm was doing his best, but it wasn't enough. Even Travis wouldn't be able to maneuver the pod through this asteroid field and come out of it with no scratch on the shuttle's hull. Again and again the small shuttle was hit by huge chunks of rock, and Trip could easily imagine the damage these impacts were causing. He could only hope and pray that there wouldn't be a hull breach. There was another blow, and the console next to Trip exploded in a shower of sparks. He threw himself to one side and would have lost his balance if Malcolm hadn't quickly reached over to steady him.

"Take care of the helm." Trip had to shout to make himself heard over the beeping of the emergency klaxon. "We need to get out of here. There's a system with several planets nearby. Maybe we can land on one of them."

Malcolm forced the pod into a daring evasive maneuver in order to avoid crashing into a huge asteroid. "Any M-class planets?" he asked breathlessly.

"Three. The third, fourth and fifth one. The third one is closest. We should try and reach it somehow."

When Malcolm didn't answer, Trip briefly raised his eyes to look first at him, then out the window. Right in front of them two rocks loomed over the small shuttle, both of them at least a one hundred meters in diameter. The crack in the middle was narrow to say the least, but there was no other way through. Trip drew in a sharp breath. They didn't have a chance. The rocks would crush the shuttle as easily as they would crush a fly.

"Hold on." Malcolm's voice shook the tiniest bit as he fixated the two rocks with a hard expression in his eyes. "I'll get us through."

Trip tried to find something to hold on to, but it wasn't much use. The shuttle grazed one of the asteroids, and around them hell broke loose. Flames burst from the main console, but when Trip tried to grab the fire extinguisher, the next hit came and threw him out of his chair to the floor. The pod jerked and shook as he tried to get back into the seat.

"Stabilizers went offline," Malcolm called. "Stay where you are."

"No, I've got to..."

Trip was cut off in midsentence as a new blow threw him against the wall. His head made painful contact with a sharp edge, and the world went black.

Malcolm briefly turned to see what was going on. The sight of Trip lying on the floor, obviously unconscious, sent a burst of adrenaline through his system. Blood was welling from a deep cut on the engineer's forehead, but Malcolm knew that right now, he could do nothing about it. They needed to get out of this asteroid field. They had managed to get past the two rocks, but not without sustaining serious damage. Without the stabilizers, it was almost impossible to keep the shuttle under control, and Malcolm had trouble simply staying in his chair. He'd been able to put out the fire on the helm, but it had done some damage before that. All around him wires sizzled and hissed, letting sparks fly. The helm's computer had gone offline, and Malcolm had to fly the shuttle manually. He needed all his strength to operate the control stick that seemed to react slower than ever. But at least it was still responding, and Malcolm found himself relieved at the fact that Starfleet equipped even their most sophisticated vessels with one of these old-fashioned levers. To tell the truth, he was quite amazed that the pod was still more or less in one piece after the blows it had sustained. He heard a hiss, and realized that they were losing atmosphere. There had to be at least one hole in the shuttle's hull. The good thing about it was that it didn't seem to be big enough for the pressure to make the shuttle fly apart, but he didn't like losing precious oxygen all the same. But there was no time to do anything about it; all he could do was hope that there would be enough air left for them to reach that system alive.

The rocks were getting smaller, as they approached the fringes of the field. Malcolm was already about to let out a relieved sigh when suddenly the shuttle was hit again. The lieutenant was thrown out of his seat and found himself on the floor. For a moment he had to fight the nausea that was trying to overwhelm him. The shuttle was tumbling and spinning, sending Trip, who was still unconscious, and himself flying through the small cabin that was the shuttle's interior. Equipment came spilling from the storage compartments, and Malcolm tried to protect Trip's body with his own. Conduits blew, screens and panels went in small sparking explosions and a smell of burned wire was hanging in the air. Clouds of gray smoke were rising from the consoles. Malcolm tried to protect his face and torso as pieces of equipment and broken interior hit him like small missiles. Looking up, he could make out dents in the inner hull paneling. It was only a matter of time now - and not much time - until the shuttle would simply fall apart.

At least the blows to the shuttle's hull had ceased. They seemed to have left the asteroid field, but the shuttle was still rolling uncontrollably. Withstanding the temptation of simply staying where he was Malcolm sat up and grabbed Trip's shoulder, shaking him slightly.

"Trip! Trip, are you alright?"

There was no response, and the blood was still flowing freely over the engineer's face. Malcolm sighed. At the moment, there was nothing he could do for Trip. He needed to bring the shuttle back onto some kind of course and land them on that planet. Then he would look after his friend. Until then, Trip would simply have to hold on. Steadying himself as far as possible, Malcolm got to his feet and made his way to the helm. Again and again he was thrown back as the shuttle jerked and tumbled its erratic course through deep space. The sensor console was hissing and sparking. Malcolm sat down on his chair, reached for the control stick, and immediately pulled his hand back with a yelp. It was hot. Malcolm pulled his sleeves over his hands and grabbed the lever with both hands. He needed to stabilize the shuttle, before the different forces that were playing tug-of-war with it would simply vaporize the small vessel. A few of the displays were still working. Due to a rare stroke of luck, one of them was navigation, showing him the course to the third planet that Trip had mentioned. It was difficult, flying manually and keeping an eye on navigation at the same time. All the same, Malcolm eventually managed to get the shuttle back under his control and reduce the tumbling to a slight shaking and an occasional jerk. It seemed like a miracle that the engines were still working, but he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

Flying on impulse speed, the trip to the third planet's orbit wasn't a long one. Only a few minutes later Malcolm registered the gravity pulling the shuttle into the planet's gravitational field. He was about to let out a sigh of relief when another sudden explosion set fire to the helm controls. Sparks flew, and flames were flickering over the console. A power cascade was set loose and blew every single undamaged circuit that was left to pieces. A second later the engines died, leaving an unsettling silence. Malcolm didn't have time to put out the fire or take care of what was happening to the shuttle. Without the engines it was impossible to keep the pod on course and with the shuttle out of control, the pull of gravity was going to drag the shuttle into the atmosphere way too fast. The helm was still reacting, though reluctantly and sporadically, and it was getting hotter every second. The blazing heat was seeping through the cloth of his uniform, burning his hands. It hurt like hell, but Malcolm wouldn't let go. He knew he would lose the last bit of control he still had for good if he took his hands off the lever now. The angle in which the shuttle was entering the atmosphere was far too steep, and since all emergency safety mechanisms had given up the ghost they would simply burn up. Desperately, Malcolm tried to get the shuttle on a shallower course and at the same time fought to ignore the increasing pain in his hands, concentrating on his battle with the helm control which slowly but steadily followed the other of the shuttle's components into mechanical death. Heat from the blazing console blew in his face, sparks were flying through the air. The pod wouldn't hold together much longer now. And God only knew how long the helm would still respond. He needed to get this shuttlepod down on firm ground.

In the meantime, the heat wasn't only on the inside, but also outside. The shuttle's snout shone in a blazing reddish orange as it plowed through the layers of the foreign planet's atmosphere.

"Come on," Malcolm shouted, trying to keep the jerking pod steady. They were going way too fast, but there was no way of slowing down. Malcolm's muscles were tensed up like tight ropes, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He didn't notice how the heat increased even further, his brain having decided to shut out the pain. He watched his uniform, which should have protected his hands, smolder away and burn into his palms, but he didn't feel a thing. It didn't matter. He needed to get that pod down. He needed to take care of Trip.

Suddenly Malcolm could make out the planet below him. Desert. Desert stretching from one end of the horizon to the other. Didn't matter, at least there was enough space to land. But they were too fast, and he saw no possibility to slow them down even a little. The shuttle would dig into the sandy earth snout first. Malcolm looked down at his hands that held the control stick in a death grip that he feared he wouldn't be able to loosen. He tried to force the shuttle's front up, and actually succeeded. They were still way too fast but at least they had a slight chance to survive the impact now. The ground sped towards them and the last thing Malcolm felt was a hard blow that pulled his hands from the lever and threw him out of his chair.


	5. Chapter 5

Trip groaned, raising one hand to his forehead where he felt a dull pain throbbing. When he pulled his hand back, there was blood on his fingers. He squinted to get a better view of his surroundings, and propped himself up on his elbows. What had happened? The shuttlepod didn't seem to be moving anymore. They seemed to have landed. Trip grimaced when he noticed that his legs were stuck. The science station had collapsed, burying his lower body under a heap of debris. The painful weight on his legs was caused by a reinforcement beam which was lying across his shins, pinning them to the floor.

Where was Malcolm? Trip blinked several times to clear his still hazy vision. He frowned when he saw his friend lying on the deck, not reacting to his calls. What was wrong with Malcolm? He wouldn't be... Trip watched him carefully until he noticed the slight rising and falling of Malcolm's chest. He exhaled deeply, feeling relief wash over him. Malcolm was alive, and hopefully not seriously injured.

"Malcolm!" Trip called once again. "I could need some help! Malcolm!"

But the tactical officer didn't move, and Trip realized that he would have to do without his help at the moment. He would have to try and get free on his own.

The shuttle was one big mess. Some of the reinforcement beams were broken, the bulkheads bent and dented, smashed equipment and destroyed panels were lying on the floor, ripped wires were hanging from the walls, and the scanner console looked like a madman had taken an axe to it. Trip's eyes came to rest on the bulkheads. It must have been a damn rough landing if it had damaged even the reinforcement beams which were constructed to easily withstand the conditions of deep space. He was even more surprised at the fact that everything was covered by a layer of fine sand.

Trip tried to turn around to get a look at the front part of the shuttle, but he was hardly able to move with his legs pinned to the floor by the reinforcement beam. He had to free himself. Using the remains of the science station's metal framing for support, he pulled himself into a sitting position and began to clear away the debris that was covering his legs. When it came to removing the beam, however, Trip realized that this wasn't going to be as easy as he had thought. He could lift the beam with both hands, but it was too heavy to push it away without losing his balance. Trip bit back an angry curse, and considered. He would need two hands to lift the beam, two to pull out his legs from underneath it, and another one to keep his balance. Trip stared at his legs as if he could make them move and free themselves by sheer will power. But it was no use. Trip sighed, carefully lowering the beam back to its former position. He looked around for something he could use as a lever, but nothing suitable was lying within his reach. He tried to reach the broken sliding door of one of the storage compartments with the tips of his fingers, stretching to be able to get hold of the thing, but it took him five tries to be able to get a grip on it. By that time he was sweating and breathing heavily. Now how was he supposed to lift the beam and at the same time push the door underneath it as a support? It seemed impossible, having only two hands at his disposal, but Trip prided himself that the word "impossible" wasn't part of his vocabulary. Finally he managed to wedge the door between the beam and the floor so that there was about a centimeter of air between his legs and the lower edge of the steel beam. Using his elbows, Trip began to carefully push himself backwards. Centimeter after centimeter he pulled his legs out of the trap, his eyes never leaving the reinforcement beam which threatened to crash down any minute. When his feet finally came free, he let out a sigh of relief. The first obstacle lay behind him. Trip noticed that he was beginning to feel dizzy. The heat was all but unbearable. He turned around to briefly check the front part of the shuttle, and his eyes widened at the sight. The front window was shattered, and what looked like a ton of sand had spilled all over the instruments. If Trip had still nursed the slightest hope of getting the shuttle up to scratch again, it now dissolved into thin air. There was no way he could close the huge hole that had formerly been the front window so that the shuttle could be taken into space again. They were stranded. And it seemed in the middle of a desert, to boot.

"I hate deserts," Trip muttered, using his arms to pull himself over to where Malcolm was lying.

"Hey, what's wrong with you, Mal? Come on, talk to me." Trip began to examine his friend's body. Malcolm's head seemed to have suffered no serious injuries apart from a few small burns. When Trip's eyes fell on Malcolm's hands, however, he took in a sharp breath.

"O God, Mal," he whispered hoarsely. Reed's hands were a raw, burned mass, with pieces of his tattered uniform melted into the wound. The smell of the burned flesh reminded Trip of a barbecue, and it caused bile to rise in his throat. His heart clenched with sympathy when he thought of the pain his friend had endured. He swallowed dryly. These were third degree burns, and parts of it looked all but charred. Trip threw a glance at the burned-out helm, an idea of what had transpired here rising at the back of his mind. Malcolm had brought down the shuttle, ignoring the horrible pain touching the white-hot instruments must have caused him. Despite the heat Trip felt a shiver run down his back when he imagined the events that had taken place here while he had lain unconscious.

He looked around, hoping the medical equipment had fallen to the floor as well. In his current condition he wouldn't be able to reach the compartments.

Finally, Trip spotted the medkit in the back part of the shuttle, lying under a bench that had been ripped from its fastening and had toppled over on the floor. It took him almost five minutes to make his awkward way to the corner. The floor was covered with sharp objects and debris that needed to be cleared away first. Trip threw a regretful glance at the broken pieces that had once been highly sophisticated computers and scanning equipment. There must have been one hell of an explosion to destroy the equipment to that extent. Partly the debris was still smoking, and Trip used a loose part of the broken wall paneling to push it aside. It wasn't easy to set up the bench from his position on the floor, but now he was finally able to reach the medkit. The way back was easier, as Trip had already cleared away the broken pieces. Pushing the medkit with his hands, he leaned against a bulkhead for balance, and felt the warmth of the steel against his back. Apparently the heat from their entry into the planet's atmosphere hadn't entirely cooled off yet. Trip pushed his legs aside to be able to reach Malcolm, but it was an uncomfortable position, and he swore softly. When he'd suffered his relapse, he'd not only lost the mobility of his legs but also his ability to keep balance. It was difficult to sit upright without anything to support his back.

Using a forceps from the medkit, Trip tried to free Malcolm's hands of the burned pieces of fabric. He managed to pluck them off, though not without pulling off big parts of the burned skin at the same time. Trip bit his lips, and swore again. He just didn't have sufficient medical knowledge to be able to really help Malcolm. If only Phlox had been here. It would have been his job as a doctor to remove the pieces as carefully as possible. Trip knew he had to try and clean Malcolm's hands to the best of his abilities, but all he could do was disinfect them, apply an antiseptic burn ointment, and bandage them up. He rummaged through the medkit. Burns often caused the victim to suffer a shock. Maybe he would find something to stabilize Malcolm's metabolism, and fight gangrene at the same time, which would be very helpful considering their less-than-antiseptic environment. Trip let out a breath of relief when he found the respective vials, and realized that there were also some analgesics at their disposal. Carefully, he injected Malcolm with one hypo after the other, and prepared another analgesic for later. Then he leaned back against the wall, letting out a groan of despair. It was a hopeless situation. They had no idea where they were, the shuttle wasn't fit to be flown, he couldn't walk, and Malcolm wasn't able to use his hands. It seemed almost funny, but the noise that came from Trip's throat didn't sound at all like laughter. He felt deep despair rise within him. What the hell was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to take care of Malcolm? His friend needed to see a doctor, soon, but he had no idea where to take one from.

When Trip pulled his legs closer in order to find a more comfortable position he noticed a long, bloody cut in the fabric of his jeans. Pulling the fabric apart he examined the wound on his calf, realizing that it had probably been caused by the reinforcement beam when it had fallen onto his legs.

"Great," he muttered, "just what I need." Now that he had seen it, it would probably start hurting right away. Trip knew he ought to clean and bandage it as well, but at the moment he simply didn't have the strength left to do so. He wouldn't be able to do the acrobatics necessary to get rid of his pants. It was way too hot, and he was way too tired. He only wanted to go to sleep. Sleep until all of this was over, and he would wake up aboard Enterprise.

* * *

 

"Trip?"

Trip started, opening his eyes. "Malcolm. How're you feelin'?"

"What happened?"

"You brought us down on a planet. You landed the shuttle."

"Are we still in one piece?" Malcolm's voice sounded weary and disoriented.

"More or less."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Trip smiled sadly. Typical of Malcolm, to worry more about his friend's condition than his own. He watched as Reed tried to shake off his disorientation, but along with clear thought came the pain. Seeing Malcolm's eyes widen, and his face turn into a grimace, Trip grabbed the hypo he had prepared and held it against Reed's neck.

"What's that?" Malcolm asked when the injector gave a small hiss, emptying its contents into his vein.

"Painkiller. Your hands are rather badly burned."

"Yes, I know." Malcolm looked down at his bandaged hands, breathing shallowly while he waited for the analgesic to take effect. Waves of hot pain emitted from his hands, searing through his entire body. He didn't dare to move. "Where are we?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"I don't know. Probably on one of the planets of that system I told you about."

"It's the third one, like you said. But that wasn't what I was talking about. I mean – where are we? Did we fall through the galaxy?"

"No." Trip gave a slight smile. "That's the only good news. The anomaly transported us only to the other side of that nebula."

"Really?" Malcolm looked up, hope reappearing in his eyes. "Then Enterprise can come to pick us up?"

"Yes." Trip also allowed himself a brief moment of relief before he continued. "But she can't fly through the nebula, and it'll take her a few days to fly around it. I hope the subspace emitter is workin' and the probe gave them our position. As soon as they're here, they'll be able to locate us. But until then we're stranded."

Malcolm nodded, glad that the analgesic was finally starting to take effect. "You're worried about that, aren't you?"

"We've only got limited supplies. There's not much left of the shuttle, and what the asteroids didn't destroy was damaged when we hit the surface. It's damn hot down here, and as if that wasn't enough, I can't walk and you can't use your hands. I don't know how we're gonna manage like that."

"Somehow we will," Malcolm said, casting a doubtful glance at his hands.

"Forget it, Malcolm. Your hands look pretty bad. I'm quite sure you won't be able to touch anythin'. I'm afraid right now there's not much I can do about it."

"As far as I can see you did quite a good job."

"For the time bein', yeah. We'll have to be careful so the wounds don't get inflamed."

"Hmmm." Malcolm felt uncomfortable, discussing his condition. "What about you?" he asked. "That's a pretty bad cut on your forehead."

"I'm fine." Trip waved him off, unconsciously feeling for the bump on his head. "My head's throbbin' a little, but it's not too bad."

"But you should wash your face. All this blood is going to scare off any desert dweller we might come across."

"And maybe just as well." Trip sighed. They had no idea whether this planet was inhabited, whether this desert in particular harbored any life, and if it did, whether the inhabitants were friendly or hostile. He picked up the waterbag. "Luckily we have enough water, though."

Placing one hand against the wall for support, he bent forward to hold the bag to Malcolm's lips. As a reflex Malcolm raised a hand, but then he let out a small moan and carefully lowered it again, allowing Trip to assist him. After Malcolm was done Trip took a sip as well, then poured some water into his open hand to wash his face.

Malcolm closed his eyes. The analgesic was making him sleepy, and he wasn't really in the mood to ponder their situation right now, even though it was his job as security officer to try and find a solution. But that could surely wait until he was feeling a little better.

Trip watched his friend as he slowly slipped into a peaceful sleep. Getting some rest was the best thing Malcolm could do at the moment. It certainly wouldn't hurt getting a little shut-eye himself, but Trip knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep right now. The cut in his calf was throbbing painfully, and for a brief moment Trip considered injecting himself with some painkiller as well. He decided against it, though. The pain was bearable, and Malcolm needed the analgesics a lot more than he did. Their supplies were limited. Trip didn't want Malcolm to suffer at his expense.

It was time to get to know their surroundings. Trip wanted to know where exactly they had landed. Maybe there was some kind of settlement in the vicinity they would be able to reach. Correction – which Malcolm could reach to get some help. Trip crawled over to the hatch and tried to open it. It was stuck. Using all his weight as a lever, Trip pressed against the bulkhead, but without his legs it wasn't much use. He examined the door. The frame wasn't bent, that couldn't be it. But no matter what he did, he wasn't able to open the hatch. And there was no way he would be able to reach the airlock. But there was another way to get out. Crawling past Malcolm towards the helm console, Trip proceeded to pull himself up onto the chair which was miraculously still fastened to the deck. Once he had brought himself into a sitting position, he climbed onto the sandy console. Through the broken front window he was able to see the blue sky. There was no cloud in sight, and when he leaned forward, he got a look at the glaring sun. Carefully Trip pulled himself through the opening, and slid down the shuttle's nose, landing in the sand one and a half meter below. He grimaced when his legs gave way immediately, causing him to sit down hard on his behind. A merciless heat overwhelmed him, and he felt the sweat spring from his brow the moment he made contact with the sand. Compared to the conditions out here the shuttle seemed to be a cool and comfortable place. Trip realized immediately where the heat was coming from. The planet had two suns both of which were blazing like two giant fireballs. One seemed to be about to set, the other had only just reached its zenith.

Trip took a look at the shuttle. It had dug quite a furrow in the sand, and was buried about half a meter deep in the ground. That was why he hadn't been able to open the hatch. It was blocked by the sand. Trip cursed himself for not thinking of that possibility earlier. He could have taken a shovel to try and at least dig out the hatch. But shoveling in this heat probably wasn't such a good idea. Maybe it would get better when the first sun had set. Trip crawled closer to take a good look at the shuttle, and he didn't like at all what he saw. The nose was bent and dented, and one of the wings was broken. It seemed like the shuttle had taken quite a rough landing in the sand. Otherwise the front window wouldn't have shattered, either. The small vehicle's outer paneling also spoke of the many hits by asteroids it had suffered; Trip hardly found a place where it wasn't scratched and dented. He wondered how on Earth they had managed to keep the shuttle in one piece out there, and secretly thanked whatever gods had been watching over them that the framing had withstood the great strain. He had no idea, however, how Malcolm had been able to keep the damaged shuttle on course. He felt a deep admiration for his friend, and at the same time anger at himself. Anger because he had let Malcolm down, lost consciousness when his friend had needed him the most. He had knocked himself out, and left Malcolm to handle a burning helm console all on his own.

Trip sighed deeply. There was no use in blaming himself for what had happened. He had to check over the shuttle. Using his elbows, Trip slowly made his way around the pod. The scratchy grains felt like sandpaper, burying themselves in the bare skin of his forearms.

But Trip ignored the unpleasant feeling, just as he ignored the heat. When he saw the engines, however, he felt a hard knot build in his chest. It took him only one look to see that the impulse drive had given up the ghost completely. They might be able to get the thrusters running, but it would take hours of repairs before they would be able to do so. But the worst was yet to come. Trip's eyes widened in shock when he saw the big hole in the tank through which the water had leaked out and seeped into the sand. There seemed to be nothing left.

"No," he said hoarsely. "Dammit, no." The tank wasn't very big, but it had held enough water to ensure that they survived until Enterprise came to pick them up. How long would the few waterbags back in the shuttle last? Certainly not long enough. In a gesture of despair Trip buried his fingers into the wet sand, but there was clearly nothing left to save.

After Trip had ended his round, he found himself facing another obstacle. He had slid down the shuttle's nose without wasting a thought to how he was going to get back inside. His subconscious still seemed to see him as a man with two healthy legs who would have easily climbed back inside through the opening. It was time he started taking his handicap into consideration when he planned his actions, however distasteful that idea seemed to be. He looked up at the shuttle's nose. Despite all the dents the surface was too smooth for him to hold onto it when he pulled himself upwards. Trip felt tears of anger and despair burn in his eyes. This last difficulty was simply too much.

"Dammit!" He smacked the sand with his open palm, causing the grains to fly in all directions. Did everything have to go wrong down here? Trip closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and forced himself to calm down. He had to find a way to get back into the shuttle. Malcolm was locked up in there. With his injured hands there was no way he could climb out the window. Neither could he fetch a shovel for Trip to dig out the hatch. He couldn't even get himself a drink of water. Reed would be helpless without his assistance.

Trip crawled back to the hatch, taking a good look at it. Maybe he would be able to clear the sand away using his hands as shovels. Certainly not a very attractive spare-time activity, but it should work. Trip looked up at the sky. The first sun was just setting, the second one had reached a position in which its full glare hit the opposite side of the shuttle, casting a small shadow on Trip's side of the pod.

Trip wiped his forehead with his bare arm, thinking that no matter how comfortable that t-shirt was, at the moment he would certainly have preferred his uniform. If he'd only had enough sense to put on his usual overall before they'd gone on this mission. Like this, he had no means of protecting his bare arms against the glaring sunshine, and a sunburn seemed in the cards. But it was no use. He crouched down in the narrow shadow next to the hull, and began to shovel away the sand.

* * *

 

After about an hour Trip had dug out the hatch. He felt close to collapsing, and knew that he wouldn't have been able to go on much longer. His clothes were stiff with sweat and dirt, and he smelled as if he'd just run a marathon. How wonderful it would have been to take a shower now. Lying in the warm sand, Trip imagined how the cool water would feel running over his body. He licked his dry lips, tasting the salty sweat on them. It felt like he'd sweat out every single drop of water, leaving his body dry and parched. But he needed to get going, open that hatch. In the shuttle there was not only shadow, but also water. Water – what a wonderful word.

With his last bit of strength Trip pulled himself onto the small heap of sand he had piled up. It was only about thirty centimeters in height, but that was enough for Trip to be able to reach the hatch's control. Breathing a sigh of relief he pushed the opening mechanism. But the hatch wouldn't budge.

"No!" Shaking his head in despair, Trip tried again. "No!"

He'd been afraid of that. Nothing about this shuttle seemed to work anymore. Frustrated, he began to examine the panel. One of the asteroids had left a dent in it, the hole was clearly visible. But the hit that had damaged the circuits had also given Trip a new possibility. The lower edge of the panel had slightly come loose. He tried to push his fingers underneath to loosen the panel from the hull, but it didn't work. He needed a more flat object to push it into the narrow gap. Trip cursed himself for not taking any tools with him when he'd left the shuttle. He hadn't even brought a screwdriver, and now it was clear that it would certainly have come in handy even out here in the desert.

Using all his strength, Trip tried to loosen the panel from the metal plating. As he had to use both his hands, though, he soon lost his balance and tumbled down from his little heap of sand. Landing on his back, Trip fought the urge to simply cry out. He looked up at the blue and cloudless sky.

"Damn you, Jon," he muttered. "If you arranged all that only to make me forget about my down I'll kick your ass into the middle of next week." He shrugged. "Well, some day, anyway. Great job, really."

He closed his eyes. The sun was shining directly in his face, but still he briefly considered succumbing to temptation and simply staying here. He was so tired he hardly cared about anything anymore. His arms were burning, and he noticed that his face, which hadn't been directly exposed to the sun up until now, was beginning to feel hot as well. It was really one big ball of fire, that second sun which was starting to approach the horizon by now. Trip remembered his duty, and Malcolm, who was back in the shuttle and in need of his help. He thought of Enterprise. Had they received his message? Was Jon already on his way to rescue them? It was comforting to know that the captain wouldn't give up on them, no matter how much effort it would take to find them. Trip wished they would at least have been able to contact them.

Contact! Trip started. He still had his communicator; he'd put it into his pocket when he'd left his quarters. Fumbling with the back pocket of his jeans, he finally managed to pull out the small device.

There was no way he would be able to contact Enterprise, she was too far away, but he could use the communicator's components to open the hatch. Feeling a surge of renewed energy, Trip sat up again. Pity he had to take it apart, but out here he had no use for a communicator anyway. He smacked it against the shuttle's hull again and again until it finally broke apart. Having pieces of machinery he could work with, Trip began to feel like an engineer again, and the feeling helped him regain some of the confidence he had lost. He climbed back onto the heap of sand, loosening the panel with a small piece of metal from the communicator's broken casing. Using its wires he short-circuited the damaged mechanism, and a moment later the hatch's lock sprang open. Trip let out a deep sigh of relief, opened the hatch and crawled back into the shuttle. He didn't even mind that much anymore when he realized that he wasn't able to reach the hatch's handle from inside.

"I'm too short for this design," he muttered, throwing his legs an angry look. But all in all he didn't really mind. He had made it back into the shuttle, and could finally allow himself to rest for a while.

Malcolm was still asleep, but it was clear that he was not resting peacefully. From time to time he let out a pain-filled moan, and his arms and legs were twitching. Seeing his friend in pain made Trip forget about his weariness. He crawled over to where Malcolm lay, studying him worriedly. If he'd only been able to lift Malcolm onto one of the bunks. The floor was not a very comfortable resting place. But he simply lacked the strength to do so. He had to leave Malcolm where he was. Trip surveyed their supply of painkillers, and sighed. It wasn't hard to estimate how long it would take Enterprise to reach their current position. Assuming they flew as fast as possible, which didn't always mean maximum speed, they could be here in five or six days at the earliest. Always assuming, of course, that the subspace emitter had worked and the probe had transmitted their position. If he kept giving Malcolm the painkiller he needed, however, the analgesics would last for three days at the most. But at that point their water supply would be long used up. They wouldn't be able to survive for six days in this heat. Trip realized that there was no use in saving up the analgesics, and die with half of their supplies untouched while Malcolm was writhing with pain even in his sleep. Filling the hypo, Trip injected another dose into Malcolm's neck. Almost immediately Reed's features relaxed, and he slept on peacefully. Trip let out a breath of relief. Now he had time to take care of himself. He took a big gulp of water from the bag, but it wasn't very refreshing, as he was too exhausted to really taste the liquid on his tongue. Good job Phlox couldn't see him like this. Trip knew he had overexerted himself, even more than at the time when he had climbed the stairs in Engineering. He ached all over, and his head was throbbing with pain. Trip only hoped his body wouldn't take cruel revenge as it had done the last time he had exhausted himself. The thought of his strength being drained away, leaving him as weak and tired as he had been after his relapse was terrible. Out here he needed his strength more than ever. But maybe getting some rest would do the trick. Trip threw a look through the broken front window where a dim twilight was slowly setting over the desert. How many hours until dawn came? Trip briefly considered pulling himself onto one of the bunks, but he was too exhausted. Lying down next to Malcolm on the deck, he wiped his grimy face one more time, then his eyes closed, and he slipped into a deep sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Malcolm licked his dry, cracked lips. How long had he been asleep? Judging from his thirst it must have been quite long. He opened his eyes and sat up, which wasn't easy due to the fact that he didn't dare to use his hands for support. They weren't even hurting that bad, though. Malcolm studied the thick bandages which covered even the tips of his middle fingers. He couldn't remember it happening. The controls had been hot, bloody hot indeed, but at some point Malcolm hadn't felt the pain anymore. Maybe the burns weren't that bad, after all. He decided to ask Trip to unwrap the bandages so he could take a look himself. Later.

Trip! Malcolm raised his eyes. His friend lay on the deck only two meters away, sleeping. He looked terrible. His skin was grimy with sweat and dirt, and there was sand in his hair, on his hands and arms, making his blue jeans look almost beige. Malcolm frowned. There was a lot of sand in the shuttle, but Trip seemed to have all but wallowed in it. Next to him on the deck lay a water bag. Carefully, so as not to wake Trip, Malcolm used his forearms to lift the bag and tried to unscrew the cap with his teeth. It turned out to be an exercise in futility, and after a while Malcolm gave up. The risk of losing his grip on the bag and spilling the water was too high. Well, he'd just have to wait then until Trip woke up. Waking him was out of the question. His thirst could wait a while longer.

Awkwardly, he got to his feet and took a look around the shuttle. What a mess. Not exactly one of his better landing manoeuvres. Malcolm threw another glance at his hands. No, certainly not one of his better manoeuvres.

He raised his eyebrows when he noticed the open shuttle hatch. Ducking under the door, he stepped outside, and immediately knew what had happened. His eyes fell on the hole in front of the hatch, the piled up sand and the loosened panel. Trip had opened the hatch, and as far as he could tell, had shovelled the sand away using his bare hands. Malcolm sighed. Trip was supposed to rest and recover. Four hours of light duties a day and short naps in between. Instead he was out here, digging up entire deserts. Malcolm's regret turned into anger when he looked back down at his hands. It was his job to take care of Trip, but while his friend had slaved away out here he'd lain in the shuttle and slept. Worse; Malcolm knew he wouldn't have been able to help Trip even if he'd been awake. Without his hands there was nothing he could do.

Frustrated, Malcolm looked up at the sky where the sun had just risen. It was already getting hot, and he felt sweat itching on his forehead. Malcolm's frustration deepened as he looked around. There was nothing but sand as far as he could see, hot, yellow sand that seemed to harbor no life at all. He couldn't spot a single weed, or bush, and not even the smallest insect seemed willing to choose this sweltering hell as its habitat. Malcolm knew the desert, and he also knew that the wild life could become rather dangerous, especially if one accidentally stepped on it. But apparently there was no danger of this happening here. Malcolm didn't know whether to feel regret or relief at that fact. He was glad they wouldn't have to deal with snakes or scorpions and the likes of them, but on the other hand this meant that survival in this environment was all but impossible. For every life form, including them. Malcolm felt sweat trickle down his brow, even though he'd been standing out here staring at the sand for only a few minutes. It seemed that he'd chosen the hottest place on the entire planet as a landing site. They could only hope that Enterprise was going to pick them up soon so that they could finally get away from this hostile environment.

He ducked back into the shuttle. Now he also knew why the hatch stood open. Trip had opened it from outside, but hadn't been able to close it again. There was a certain irony about the fact that Malcolm, on the other hand, was able to reach the handle, but couldn't close his fingers around it, thus being as incapable of closing the hatch as Trip was. Malcolm let out a frustrated sigh, and right that moment heard a noise behind him. Trip was moving.

"Hi, Mal."

"Morning, Commander. Sleep well?"

"Dunno." Trip yawned. "Don't really feel like it." He tried to sit up, but wasn't very successful in his attempt. Malcolm held out his elbow so that Trip could use it as a support to pull himself into a sitting position.

"How're your hands?" the engineer asked, giving him a searching look.

"Can't complain. They feel okay. Maybe these burns aren't that bad, after all."

Trip grinned sourly, but said nothing. His expression, however, stirred up a suspicion in Malcolm.

"You injected me with more analgesics, didn't you?"

Trip nodded. "You were whimperin' with pain even in your sleep. I thought it'd be better to give you somethin'."

Malcolm flinched, detesting the idea of hearing the word "whimper" in connection with himself.

"Would you mind pushin' over the water?" Trip jerked his chin in the direction of the water bag Malcolm had left lying next to his sleeping place.

Using his foot, Malcolm pushed the bag to where Trip was able to reach it. The engineer unscrewed its cap and looked up at his friend. "C'mon, sit down."

He waited until Malcolm had taken a seat next to him on the deck, then raised the bag to Reed's lips. Malcolm opened his mouth to protest and insist that Trip drink first, but then he realized how futile his arguing would have been. He took several long sips of the water which due to the isolation of the thermal bag still tasted cool. Malcolm felt like he could have emptied the whole bag, but now it was Trip's turn. He raised a hand, and Trip held the bag to his own mouth, but took only a few small sips before he lowered it again.

"You've been busy out there," Malcolm said.

"Had no choice." Trip wiped his mouth, then put the cap back on the water bag. "I wanted to get back inside."

"How did you get out, anyway?"

Trip pointed at the broken front window.

"You're not serious." Malcolm stared at him.

"Well, I wanted to see what it looks like out there. Turned out to be a one-way street, though."

"And what do you think of our new environment? I was outside a few minutes ago, and the sun was just rising."

"The suns, you mean. This damn planet's got two of them. Looks like they're settin' at an interval of four or five hours. Their arcs also show a slight discrepancy. But it's their combined heat which makes this place a livin' hell."

"Great. Any more bad news?"

"Yes." Trip hesitated. "The tank's been damaged. There's not a drop of water left inside."

Malcolm stared at him, trying to comprehend the implications of what Trip had just said. "How many water bags do we have?"

"Three full ones. Each containin' two liters of water. Plus the one we just emptied half."

"And you let me drink like we have all the water in the world?" Malcolm gave Trip a reproachful look, but all he got was a mere shrug.

"How long will it take for Enterprise to find us here?"

"You mean assumin' they got our transmission?"

"Assuming they got it, yes. And I'm not willing to think different."

"If they got on their way immediately after the probe transmitted our coordinates, it'll take them at least another five days, maybe six."

"Six days." Malcolm nodded. "Two people, six days, seven liters of water, and a desert hotter than hell at daytime. Quite a simple calculation. So what do you suggest?"

"Try to repair the shuttle and get away from here."

Malcolm's gaze wandered across the shuttle, coming to rest on the burnt-out helm controls. "Repair it?"

"It won't hurt to try. Better than sittin' around and waitin' for the suns to bake us."

* * *

 

Malcolm sat on the floor in a small spot of shadow, trying to ignore the oppressing heat that seemed to creep into his pores, scrambling all rational thought. He wished he could have taken off his uniform, but that was out of the question. It wasn't even that he was reluctant to ask Trip for his assistance, but his hands were too thickly bandaged for him to pull his sleeves over them. Lost in thought, he studied the white cotton bandages. In the meantime his hands had become one big, tugging pain, not very strong, but still there. Malcolm thanked God or Phlox or whoever was responsible that the medkit was so generously supplied with painkillers and Trip would be able to give him another dose later. Without the numbing analgesic he'd certainly be feeling a lot worse.

Inwardly, Malcolm let out a frustrated sigh. He was feeling worse, come to think of it. He felt terrible. It wasn't Trip's job to take care of everything. Trip was supposed to take it easy, and not to overexert himself. If Phlox knew that the engineer had been lying under the helm console for several hours now, trying to repair it, he'd personally find a way to cross this nebula to come and drag him off to a bio bed. It should be Malcolm's job to look after his friend, not the other way around. The fact that he wasn't able to do so, wasn't able to do anything to help, made him cringe inwardly. He'd tried to clear away some of the debris, at least, using his feet to push the pieces aside. The shuttle was one big mess. He'd never before realized how many small objects a shuttle's interior contained, and how a computer could shatter into several hundred tiny metal pieces when hitting the deck. Even the food rations had been spattered all over the floor. Using his forearms he'd been able to stack the containers in a neat pile on the deck. Almost half of them were useless, their seals damaged and their contents made inedible by the heat. Those Malcolm had kicked out the hatch, feeling a certain grim satisfaction while doing so. They didn't need rotten food in their restricted living space on top of everything else.

Malcolm slid further into the shadow. The first sun was slowly making its way across the sky, bathing the shuttle in light and warmth. Or maybe heat would be a better word for it. The second sun was now directly above them, and it felt as if they were sitting in a hot stove that was slowly but steadily heating up. But outside it was even hotter. At least they had managed to close the hatch, Malcolm pushing it down with his elbows until Trip was able to reach the handle and close it after Malcolm had crawled back inside. Trip had tied a rope to the handle so that he would be able to close it without Malcolm's assistance. And, most important, keep it closed since the locking mechanism didn't work anymore.

Blearily, Malcolm stared at the hatch. They wouldn't be able to survive here until Enterprise came. It would need a miracle to make that possible. A miracle Trip would hopefully be able to arrange.

Malcolm turned around when Trip awkwardly crawled out from under the console. His face was grimy, and trickles of sweat created light traces in the darker sand that was covering his skin. He was breathing heavily.

Using his foot, Malcolm pushed the water bag towards the engineer, but Trip shook his head. "Later. I'm not thirsty right now."

"You have to drink, Trip," Malcolm said quietly, but firmly. "We both know that you don't take the heat very well. And your condition wasn't all that good to begin with. So don't try playing the hero now."

Reluctantly, Trip nodded and took a big swallow from the water bag. Then he put the bag in his lap, pulled himself over to where Malcolm was sitting, and held the water to his mouth.

"The same goes for you," he said when the lieutenant hesitated.

Malcolm took a few sips of the water which had taken on a stale, flat taste. The container's isolation had eventually lost against the heat.

"Did you get anywhere?" he asked, trying for an offhand tone of voice as if their survival didn't depend on Trip's ability to repair the shuttle.

"No." Trip shook his head in regret. "I just don't have the spare parts I'd need. I fixed as many circuits as I could, usin' parts from other systems, but it's still not enough by far."

"You mean there's no chance for us to get away from this desert?"

"Looks like it, but maybe I'll think of somethin'." Trip didn't look at Malcolm while he said it. He didn't want to tell his friend that he'd exhausted his possibilities. The shuttle was too badly damaged. Aboard Enterprise with all the spare parts at his disposal it would have been no problem to replace the charred and burnt circuits, but down here it was an exercise in futility to even try to do so. Still, he'd gotten quite far. It hurt his very soul, knowing exactly how to repair the helm and still not being able to do so because he lacked the necessary components. He'd taken the circuit board out of the second communicator, taken apart one of the scanners and used all the computer parts that were still in some way usable. He'd even considered taking apart the two phase pistols, but Malcolm had put a strict veto on that idea. Trip had no idea what Malcolm wanted to keep those weapons for, out here in the desert, but he didn't want to start an argument. And besides, it would have been no use, anyway. To be able to replace all the burnt circuits that were necessary to take the shuttle back into the air there were still a great many parts missing.

Trip wiped his sweaty face. He felt tired and exhausted, but knew he had to take care of Malcolm first. They both hadn't eaten anything for almost a day, and his empty stomach was beginning to protest. Trip guessed that it was the same with Malcolm, even though the lieutenant hadn't said a word of complaint. But then, Malcolm never said a word of complaint, no matter how badly injured or sick he was.

"How're your hands?" Trip asked while he pulled himself past Malcolm to the back part of the shuttle and climbed onto the bench.

"They're fine."

Trip grinned sourly. Of course they were. He'd expected no different answer, even though he knew that the analgesic must be wearing off by now. But Malcolm wouldn't let anything show as long as the pain wasn't all but unbearable.

"How about some dinner?"

"We should save what little food we have."

"Well, we are savin' it. Neither of us had anythin' to eat for almost twenty-four hours. How 'bout some sea bass?"

Malcolm grinned. "Brings back some memories, doesn't it?"

"In a way." Trip answered his grin. "Even though you kicked the meatloaf out the hatch."

"Well, there wouldn't have been enough mashed potatoes to fill the holes, anyway."

Trip chuckled as he exchanged a knowing glance with the other man. Talking about their shuttle mission was comforting. At the time, their situation had seemed just as hopeless, and they had still made it. Even more so, the long hours in the freezing cold shuttle had laid the foundation for their friendship, a friendship that had grown deeper and closer in the time that followed.

"Was rather cold at the time," Malcolm said. "At the moment I wouldn't say no to a little hypothermia, though."

"And we don't have any bourbon, either," Trip stated. "Gotta talk to the cap'n about his stockin' up on decent supplies." He placed the container with the sea bass in the micro wave oven that surprisingly enough was still in one piece. "Even though I don't really want to know what alcohol would do to us in this heat. Come, sit down here."

Malcolm stared at Trip as the engineer opened the micro wave oven to get out their meal. He'd suddenly realized that there was no way he could feed himself with these hands. The idea of Trip having to feed him like a baby was mortifying. No, he'd rather stay hungry than submit to that shameful procedure. Malcolm shook his head.

"No, I'm not going to let you feed me. That's humiliating."

"C'mon, Mal, don't be silly. I can't get up, so you'll have to sit down next to me if you want to get served."

Raising his head, Malcolm saw Trip's raised eyebrows and his knowing grin. And suddenly he felt his face grow even hotter. What the hell was he thinking, complaining to Trip about "humiliating"? For more than a week he'd been feeding his friend every day, and it wasn't by far the only thing Malcolm had done for Trip during that time. Trip, however, had never said a word about feeling humiliated, simply accepting the fact that Malcolm was glad to offer his help. It seemed the time had come that Malcolm, in turn, accepted Trip's help.

He got up and sat down next to his friend. "Sorry," he muttered. "You're probably the last one I should be complaining to."

"S'okay," Trip said. "I know how you're feelin'."

"Yes, you do. But you're enjoying it, too."

"Let's just say it's nice to be at the other end of the fork, for a change." Trip grinned, spearing a piece of fish and offering it to Malcolm. "And it's not too bad. You get used to everythin'. It could be a lot worse, come to think of it."

"Worse?" Frowning, Malcolm met Trip's amused eyes and wondered what he was talking about.

"Didn't the cap'n initially plan to go on this mission himself? Just imagine you'd be stranded here together with him instead of me." Trip burst out laughing at Malcolm's horrified expression, but quickly grew serious again. "But on the other hand the Jon wouldn't have knocked himself out while landin' the shuttle. He could've helped you take it down, or at least put out the fire. I guess your hands would be still okay if he had been here instead of me."

"That's nonsense, Trip," Malcolm said gently but firmly, fighting the urge to lay a reassuring hand on Trip's shoulder. The engineer looked all but devastated, picking at the food with his fork and refusing to meet Malcolm's eyes. "It's not your fault."

"But I let you down."

"No, you didn't. The same thing could have happened to Captain Archer just as well. But if you must know, I'd rather have you feed me than the captain."

Malcolm studied Trip, not sure if he had managed to convince him. Trip looked frustrated, and was clearly not well. Sweat was pouring down his face, and he seemed on the verge of collapse. Malcolm knew he had overexerted himself, repairing the helm controls. And digging out the shuttle hatch the day before had only served to weaken his already fragile condition. Reed could only hope that Trip's body would be able to cope with the constant strain. He glanced at the cut on Trip's forehead and his bare arms which were still reddened with sunburn. Trip was taking perfect care of his friend, but he neglected to take care of himself. Malcolm looked around.

"What're you lookin' for?" Trip asked.

"The medkit. You have to do something about that cut on your forehead, or it will get infected. I'm sure it burns like hell with the sweat getting into the wound all the time. And your arms look like they could use some ointment."

The engineer let out a sigh. He wasn't going to tell Malcolm that there was no way he would use the ointment for his simple sunburn when Reed needed it for his hands. But some antiseptic gel and a band aid to cover the cut on his forehead didn't seem like a bad idea. The only problem was, how was he supposed to lift the medkit? Without his legs he couldn't bend forward without losing his balance, and he was far too exhausted to let himself fall to the floor only to climb back onto the bench afterwards.

Malcolm had spotted the medkit and pushed it over to the bench before he sat down next to Trip again. "You can hold on to my arm," he said, guessing what Trip was thinking. Careful not to touch Malcolm's hand, Trip closed his fingers around Reed's arm and bent down to pick up the medkit.

"We make quite a pair, don't we?" he muttered, proceeding to open the small container.

"What's the problem? We've got two arms and two legs, what else do you want?"

Trip grinned. "How about those arms and legs on the same body?" He cleaned the wound on his forehead, then applied some gel and a band aid. Afterwards he injected Reed with another dose of painkiller and began to unwrap the lieutenant's hands. The innermost layer of bandage material stuck to the burned skin, and despite Malcolm's protest Trip used some of their water to peel off the gauze. Malcolm fell silent when he first saw the full extent of his injuries. The numbing effect of the analgesics had left him unaware of the severity of the burns, but what he saw shocked him to the very core. He swallowed and ran his tongue over his dry lips, trying hard not let any of his emotions show.

Trip was also trying to hide his worry. Malcolm's time was running short. In this environment those burns were going to get infected sooner or later. And Malcolm's hands were one big charred wound. Trip couldn't even clean them properly. All he could do was apply some of the antiseptic ointment which was hardly sufficient in this case, and wrap them up again.

Malcolm watched stoically, his face bearing no particular expression. Trip, however, knew him well enough to know that the sight of his burned hands had shocked him deeply. At least he could help him with the pain. Trip knew that burns, and especially burns of that severity, could cause pain bad enough for the victim to pass out from sheer agony.

"How much of that stuff have we left?" Malcolm asked as if he had been reading Trip's thoughts.

The engineer threw a glance at the medkit's remaining contents. "Enough," he said, hoping for his voice to sound confident enough so Malcolm wouldn't hear the lie in it. The painkillers wouldn't last much longer now, and Trip had already used a smaller dose this time. Malcolm would be feeling his hands, but it was better than using up all their supplies and leaving Malcolm to face hell when there were no analgesics left to ease his pain anymore.

Malcolm looked at him. "I'm wondering what we will run out of first - painkillers or water."

"Don't worry," Trip said. "Jon will come to get us. He'll find a way to get us away from here in time."

In time! Looking at their dwindled supplies and Trip's weary face, Malcolm knew that "in time" might not be soon enough.

"You should go and lie down for a while," he suggested, but Trip shook his head.

"I'm gonna take another look at the helm console. There has to be a way to get that thing up and runnin' again. I keep thinkin' there's somethin' I missed."

Trip let his eyes wander across the shuttle, over the wall paneling which was bent and dented, parts of it loosened by force to get access to the relays and circuits behind. He'd taken apart half the shuttle to find enough spare parts, but most of them were damaged or useless.

Malcolm shook his head. "No, Trip. You've tried everything you could, and you have to get some rest. Or do you want to risk another relapse? You're exhausted, and who knows what will happen if your body shuts down again. We can't take that risk, Trip. With these hands, I'm helpless on my own. I need you."

Trip sighed. He knew that Malcolm was right. Every movement in this murderous heat was an effort of its own. His calf was throbbing fiercely, and Trip was glad that Malcolm hadn't discovered the cut yet. Taking off his pants in order to take care of the injury was beyond his possibilities at the time. He didn't have the strength left, just as he didn't have the strength to crawl over to the helm console and start another series of futile repair attempts.

"Well, alright," he said, picking up the water bag and offering it to Malcolm. "Let's get some rest."

Malcolm only took a few small sips. "How much water have we left?"

"Two full bags and this one." Trip made a move to put the lid back on the bag, but Malcolm's stern look and headshake stopped him. Sighing, he took a sip as well. "Happy now?"

"Yes." Malcolm's lips curved upwards in a smile. "You've got to take care of yourself, Trip. There's no use in pushing yourself to the point of collapse. I wouldn't be able to help you, and without your help I'm lost here. Maybe if you lie down you can try to get some sleep."

Watching as Trip awkwardly pulled his legs onto the bench, Malcolm fervently wished he would have been able to do something to help him. It was true, he had to rely on Trip's assistance, but the engineer wasn't as fit as he pretended to be. Damnit, Trip was still paralyzed. It should be his, Malcolm's, duty to look after his friend, not the other way around. And then there was this heat which seemed to drain them of every bit of energy they might still have left.

Trip's features relaxed as he slowly slipped into a restless sleep. Malcolm looked around the shuttle. He knew Trip still believed the captain was going to find them in time, but to be quite honest, Malcolm wasn't so sure. The odds that Archer was going to find a way through that nebula were next to nothing, and Malcolm knew that there was no other way, either. If Enterprise came at all, then it would take her at least another five days to reach their position. And there was no way they could survive until then. He would have to think of something.

Malcolm went over to the shuttle hatch and examined the rope Trip had used to fasten the door. Using his teeth, he untied the knot and leaned against the hatch until it sprang open. Of course he was going to need Trip's help to close it again, but first a quick recce was in order.

As he stepped outside, the heat hit him like a slap in the face. The twin suns were blazing in the sky, turning the desert into an over dimensional furnace. The white glittering sand hurt Malcolm's eyes, and he squinted to shield them from the light.

Slowly, dragging his feet behind him, he made his way around the shuttle. He could still see the furrow where Trip had crawled through the sand the day before. There wasn't even enough of a breeze to cover the track his legs had left. Malcolm sighed. What kind of hell had he flown them into? This place didn't even have dunes, only a white sandy plain stretching as far as the eye could see.

Malcolm reached up to wipe the sweat off his face, and gasped as his hand bumped slightly against his forehead. The pain was bearable as long as he kept his hands still, but it only took a faint movement or contact to send waves of agony through his arms. Malcolm stared down at the bandages covering his hands, and realized that Trip must have given him a smaller dose the last time he had injected him with painkillers. And this could only mean one thing: they were running short of supplies. And there was almost no water left, either. Damnit, he was the security officer. He was responsible for the crew's safety, for Trip's safety. He had to think of something, fast.

Malcolm squinted, shielding his eyes as he stared at the desert. There seemed to be a whirring movement at the horizon, blurred shapes of a dark, unidentifiable color. He squinted harder, trying to make out what it was. It looked like a silhouette, very far away, even though it was hard to tell the exact distance from here. Maybe it wasn't even that far away. Maybe it was some kind of oasis, only a few kilometers from here?

Maybe the water they needed so badly was closer than they thought, almost within reach. And if there was only the slightest chance that he could get there, then Malcolm wasn't going to stay in the damaged shuttle and wait for him and Trip to die of thirst. He would find that water.

Looking out at the desert, Malcolm knew what he was going to do, and it made him feel better than he had in a long time.


	7. Chapter 7

"You wanna do what?"

Huddled closely together, they sat in the small streak of shadow next to the wall, the second sun's glistening beams bathing the shuttle in warmth and brightness. It was the only place where the heat was somewhat tolerable.

"It's the only possibility," Malcolm insisted.

"No, it isn't," Trip answered, agitated. "Malcolm, that's a stupid idea. You can't just walk out into that desert hopin' to find some water somewhere. You won't get anywhere out there and you know it."

"Not just walk out, Commander. I told you before, I saw something out there."

"Glimmerin' air, nothin' more."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Perhaps it's an oasis. Perhaps there is water."

"And if there isn't?"

"It's worth a try."

"How far d'you think you're gonna get in this heat?" Trip bit his lips, but eventually said what he was thinking: "And with these hands?"

"I don't need my hands for walking." Malcolm's face got a stubborn expression, his mouth turning into a thin line. "I've calculated the risk very carefully, Trip. If I leave tomorrow morning at dawn..."

"...then it'll already be at least 25 degrees Celsius out there."

"Shouldn't be a problem."

"But the sand is also radiatin' heat."

"I guess in the early morning it won't be so bad."

"As soon as the first sun rises you'll have 30 degrees on your back."

"That's true, but it's the second sun that really heats up the planet. And it's not going to rise for at least four hours after the first one has risen. So I'll have two hours time to find water and another two to come back."

"Assumin' you find water, how're you gonna open the bags and fill them?"

"I'll manage somehow. With my teeth or even with my feet if I have to. Now stop trying to talk me out of this. I can do it, just have a little faith in me."

"That's not the point, Malcolm. Y'know I'd trust you with my life. I just have a bad feelin' lettin' you walk out into the desert when you don't even know where you're goin'. You're injured, you can't use your hands. Really, you shouldn't do that."

"Who else can do it?" Malcolm asked in an aggressive tone of voice. "You?" He bit his lips the second he'd said it. "I'm sorry, Trip, that wasn't fair."

Trip didn't answer, he only stared at his sprawled legs.

Guiltily, Malcolm looked at him. "It just slipped out, Trip, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. You know, I'm not really happy with that solution myself, going out there when my hands are in this condition. But if you keep finding reasons why I shouldn't go I will finally agree and stay here. But this is our last chance. You know Enterprise can't be here on time, even if they did get your message, and we can't know that for sure. We're not going to survive without water and I don't want to die without having tried all options. It's only a small chance but it could be possible that I have really seen something. Perhaps there is an oasis behind the horizon. Perhaps even an inhabited area, who knows. And I'm not going to take any more chances than necessary. I'll take the scanner with me."

Briefly, Malcolm remembered their argument when Trip had wanted to use all their equipment for spare parts and he had insisted on leaving at least the weapons and one scanner intact. He sighed. "Tell me if you see another option. I'm open to every suggestion you come up with."

That was the point. Trip didn't have any suggestions. He was more than reluctant to leave this job to Malcolm. It was plain irresponsible, letting him stumble out into the desert with these useless and hurting hands. But what else could they do? Their supply of water was running short and they simple couldn't survive in this heat without water. He for himself could contribute nothing to their rescue. Trip's eyes returned to his lifeless legs, and his brows drew together. No, nothing at all.

* * *

 

"Breakfast's ready, Malcolm."

Malcolm tried to shake off the sleepiness. To tell the truth, he hadn't exactly rested well. The impending mission had troubled him all night and kept him from sleeping. There was hardly anything he could do to prepare himself for the journey, but the uncertainty whether or not he was going to be successful was weighing on his mind. The muggy air that wouldn't cool down even during the night had kept him awake as well. It was just as well that the period of darkness didn't last very long in this part of the planet. Awkwardly, he stood up and shuffled over to where Trip was sitting.

"I'm not hungry at all. Shouldn't we ration what little food we have?"

"That wouldn't make sense. Even though it's supposed to be vacuum sealed, the stuff is rottin' away. This is the last edible food we have and it won't stay that way for long. So we better eat it right away. And you need your strength for the walk."

Less than impressed, Malcolm looked at the food. His throat was sore and swollen and he believed he wouldn't be able to swallow even one mouthful of it. Trip looked at the plastic plate with the same expression on his face. Then he shrugged and offered Malcolm a fork with some sort of meat.

"C'mon, it's better than nothin'."

Malcolm didn't even ask what he was eating. It didn't look very delicious to him and tasted like cardboard, though he guessed that was mostly because he had never before felt less enthusiastic about eating anything. Even the thought of pineapple upside-down cake didn't seem to hold much of a lure at the moment.

Trying a mouthful as well, Trip grimaced. "Tastes like old socks," he murmured, licking his sore lips.

Malcolm grinned lopsidedly. "How do you know how old socks taste? You don't have a habit of eating them, do you?"

Trip snorted, but he was too tired to think of a good remark. "Your turn, Lieutenant. Open your mouth."

"Guess a candle would do for the romantic mood," Malcolm muttered sarcastically.

Now the corners of Trip's mouth twitched slightly. It really was an intimate situation, eating from the same plate and feeding both Malcolm and himself with the same fork. Trip appreciated Malcolm's attempt to lift their mood with a joke, but again his weary brain failed to come up with an appropriate reply.

They forced themselves to finish the meal. Trip opened their second to last bag of water and offered it to Malcolm. "And this time, you drink more than just one teeny weeny sip," he advised him.

Malcolm shook his head. "One mouthful is enough."

"No, it's not." Trip refused to take the bag away from Malcolm's lips. "Listen to me, Lieutenant. Without water you're gonna collapse within the first ten minutes. If you do find some water it'll make no difference how much you drink now. And if you don't find any water, then I really don't care a shit whether we die today or tomorrow. So drink now. I'm not lettin' you go otherwise."

"Okay." Malcolm drank about a quarter liter of water. It was warm and even staler than it had been the day before, but despite of the taste he relished every mouthful. Afterwards he allowed Trip to inject him with another painkiller and to bandage his hands once again. "Please take care that some of my finger tips are free so I can operate the scanner," he asked.

Trip nodded. He chose for Malcolm's left hand where the fingers weren't as badly burnt as on his right. He managed to loosen the bandages without greater problems, but the condition of Malcolm's hands had visibly worsened. Trip was sure that they weren't sufficiently supplied with blood and slowly beginning to necrotize. Silently, he pleaded with Jon to hurry. Dismissing these thoughts, he smiled when he wrapped the bandages around the hands. "Be careful," he advised Malcolm. "If you stumble, keep your hands away from the sand."

"Got it." Malcolm grimaced. They were both only too aware of their situation. Enterprise couldn't be here in time, and they would be doomed if he failed to find some water.

Malcolm asked Trip to put the leather straps of the two empty water bags across his shoulders, but objected when Trip wanted to give him the full bag.

"The other one is still three quarters full, Trip, that should be enough for four hours."

Trip complied. He loosened the caps of all bags so Malcolm would be able to unscrew them with his teeth. Sighing, he put one of the caps with the NX-01 logo on Malcolm's head. "I wished I could talk you out of this. Or at least come with you."

"You could wish me good luck."

"Hm, you're gonna need it." Trip slipped down to the floor and pulled himself to the hatch, loosening the rope to open it. "Malcolm?"

"Hm?"

"Come back, okay? Don't leave me alone here."

Malcolm looked down at his friend. He wished he could lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'll come back. And I'll bring you some water." Enterprise's security chief nodded and climbed out of the hatch. Trip watched him trudge along in the sand in the light of the rising sun. He exhaled deeply, squinting his eyes to get rid of the burning sensation that had suddenly overcome him.

* * *

 

Sitting in the open hatch and staring at the footprints Malcolm had left in the sand, Trip had lost his sense of time. It had been a bad feeling, watching his friend go out into nowhere. The desert certainly didn't look like there was any water to be found out there. Not in this sandy hell that stretched along the horizon and further on. Where not a breeze was blowing and the two suns slowly killed everybody who was foolish enough to stay out here. Still, the temperatures were agreeable since the first sun was only just rising over the horizon. But the second sun would make this desert a furnace hostile to every lifeform. Trip only hoped that Malcolm would be safely back until then.

Letting out a sigh, he shut the hatch and fastened the rope. He had run out of options to repair the helm, and so there was nothing he could do to pass the time while waiting for Malcolm to come back. He yawned. Like always, he felt awfully tired. The constant yawning got on his nerves. Awkwardly, he climbed onto the rear bench but he didn't intend to lie down. Going to sleep would have felt too much like letting Malcolm down - who was, after all, risking his life for him right now. If he only had been able to go with him. These damned legs. "How about you start doin' your job again?" he muttered, staring at his legs in a futile attempt to make them move by sheer will power. He smacked his hand on his thigh. Actually he gave a damn whether he could walk or not. If Malcolm didn't come back with any water, there was nothing they could do but accept their fate. And then it didn't really matter anymore whether he could move his legs or not.

Trip's gaze fell on the microwave oven and he grinned sourly. What use was there in stocking up the shuttle pod with a heap of rations if they went bad after only a few hours? That mustn't have happened. Perhaps the seals had been damaged somehow during the crash when all their equipment had been thrown out of the compartments. But it didn't make any difference. The microwave oven was useless to them now, just another assembly of circuits.

Trip started badly and would have jumped up, but remembered just in time that he couldn't do so. He stared at the device. The sand must have gotten into his brain as well, or he surely would have thought of this before. Here it was. The solution to all their problems was sitting right before him. And had been sitting here all the time. The microwave oven contained all of the spare parts he needed to repair the helm console.

Trip shook his head. The whole time he had been sitting directly in front of it, never thinking of that possibility. Malcolm wouldn't have had to go out into the desert in a futile and dangerous search for water. They could already be long gone from this place. Trip squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lips. If he had only been able to run after Malcolm and call him back. His friend had been gone for less than half an hour, with a good sprint he would be able to catch up with him. Normally.

A good sprint. Trip sighed deeply, but it sounded like a sob. Why did it seem that fate always plotted against him?

He rubbed his face. It wasn't the time to feel sorry for himself, he had to pull himself together. He couldn't get Malcolm back by complaining about his fate and blaming himself. But he could see to it that the helm was back to working order when his friend came back. All he needed was his toolkit.

* * *

 

Malcolm stumbled forward, on and on. He tried to shut out all thoughts except moving his feet and from time to time checking the scanner that was hanging from his neck. Operating the device was painful. The tip of his left middle finger wasn't covered by the bandage and when he touched the scanner the burnt fingertip sent out a stinging pain Malcolm could feel up to his shoulder. Malcolm saw no use in fooling himself, he knew what condition his hands were in. He had been pushing away all thoughts concerning them, but his lonely march through the desert gave him enough time to think. He had seen them and he knew their condition had deteriorated. In spite of Trip's efforts the wounds were probably infected by now. But even if they weren't, his hands had remained untreated for too long. Even if Phlox would be able to take care of them in a few days, Malcolm feared it would be too late then. He would lose both hands. What use was a security chief and armory officer without his hands? These days, they made artificial limbs that were as good as your own arms and legs, but they still wouldn't work for him. He couldn't imagine firing a phaser with an artificial hand, let alone adjusting a torpedo or simply doing his work on Enterprise.

Suddenly Malcolm couldn't stop from grinning. The thought that had just crossed his mind was pure sarcasm. Just what Enterprise needed. A chief engineer without his legs and an armory officer without his hands.

Malcolm turned around and looked at his footsteps that formed a straight line. He wouldn't need the scanner to find his way back. The sight of his own footsteps held a certain comfort. If he couldn't make his way back in time, Enterprise would at least find his body. Malcolm snorted. Of course they would find it. What was he thinking? Enterprise wouldn't have to rely on some footsteps in the sand, they had scanners to locate his corpse. He shook his head to get rid of these depressing thoughts. He wasn't dead yet. Perhaps a mouthful of water would help to lift his mood. Malcolm held the water bag between his forearms, lifting it to his mouth to remove the cap with his teeth. He sighed in relief when he succeeded in doing so. He would have loved to drink all the water in the bag, but he had to ration it. Deep inside he wasn't so sure that he was going to be able to find any water, even though he had tried to appear confident in front of Trip. With an effort, he removed the bag from his mouth and tried to screw the cap back on. He lost some precious minutes with futile attempts, but leaving the bag open seemed too risky. Eventually he succeeded in putting the cap up correctly and screwing it shut using his teeth and tongue. "My kingdom for a pair of hands," he muttered, stumbling forward again.

He could feel the sun's warmth on his back. He was sweating, but the temperature was still bearable. He had to go on. He had to find water. Trip was relying on him.

Again, Malcolm tried to shut out all disturbing thoughts. He tried not to think of the increasing heat or his thirst or his aching hands. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, never losing track, step by step and minute by minute. Every half an hour he allowed himself a sip of water and checked his direction using the scanner. The results were frustrating. He stayed on his course but this course seemed to lead to nowhere. He couldn't locate a single drop of water, only sand, sand and sand. By now his shoes were full of it and he could feel the grains slipping under his uniform, rubbing against his skin and making it sore. He started to itch all over and the worst of it was that he couldn't even scratch.

Malcolm sighed when he looked around. He felt like he was the only living being on this bloody planet. He started to wonder whether the whole planet consisted of this oversized sandbox. The first sun was rising steadily and it got warmer, but he still had some time left. However, if he couldn't find water within the next half an hour he had to turn around. But he couldn't allow that to happen. He mustn't fail. There had to be water somewhere around here and Malcolm Reed was determined to find it.

* * *

 

Trip lay under the helm console, cursing. Due to the heat his fingers were so swollen that he was barely able to grip his tools. Let alone handle delicate circuits and relays. Again and again the tools and spare parts slipped from his fingers and he had to search for them in the dust. This damned sand seemed to be everywhere. It was itching in his eyes, clogging his nose and even his tongue seemed to be made of sand. Trip coughed, feeling it in his sore throat. He closed his burning eyes. He would love to give in to his tiredness, lie down and sleep for some hours. But he couldn't afford the time, he had to finish his repairs. It wasn't only due to the heat that his fingers had gotten clumsy. He recognized the signs. The feeling of having to pull his arms through a tenacious swamp to move them was only too familiar to him.

"Don't fail me now," he admonished his body. Awkwardly, he crawled out from under the console to get some water. It burned on his sore lips. The cut in his calf was burning as well. He could feel his pulse throbbing inside the wound. It surely wasn't good to drag the leg over the sandy floor all the time. Trip presumed that in its untreated condition the cut had gotten infected, but he didn't bother to take a look at it. It was better to save his strength to repair the helm. And besides, he didn't really want to know.

* * *

 

Malcolm stared down at his scanner. He had been on his way for a little more than two hours, and realized that he was going to have to turn back. He wouldn't get back in time if he kept going. But his insides bristled at the idea. Going back meant that he had failed and he wasn't going to admit that he had failed. Maybe the water was only another half an hour's walk away. His rationality told him to turn around but there was also that little, persistent voice at the back of his mind telling him over and over again that he was so close to finding what he was looking for. Only a few steps, maybe, thirty minutes, another hour, who knew what he was going to find. Malcolm stumbled on. If he failed to find water they were going to die anyway, and it made no real difference whether he kept going or not.

"Come back, okay?" he suddenly heard a voice whispering in his head. "Don't leave me alone here." Malcolm shut his eyes, sighing when he remembered Trip's words. He mustn't go on. He had promised Trip that he was going to return. It didn't make a lot of sense to go back with empty hands, but that way, they could at least die together. Maybe a miracle would happen and Enterprise would find them in time. Malcolm swallowed dryly. He didn't want to die out here, all alone. All of a sudden the shuttle seemed like a safe shelter to him. At least he wouldn't be alone there.

For the last time, Malcolm Reed looked at the horizon. He wanted to know what was there, whether it was the oasis he had thought he had seen, or just that endless stretch of sand, where he would finally die a slow, agonizing death.

When he turned around he saw a flicker of ... something at the horizon, forming blurred shapes. There definitely was something out there. Frantically, Malcolm worked his scanner, whimpering when the pain shot from his fingertips right into his arm and up to his shoulder. But the scanner didn't show anything. Perhaps it was faulty, which was definitely a possibility in this sandy environment. But Malcolm could trust his eyes. There wasn't only sand out there. He wasn't able to guess the distance but he decided it was worth a try. There would be water. He just knew it.

Malcolm stumbled forward, towards the flickering. When he paused the next time he could see distinct shapes. His heart pounded excitedly, and he licked his cracked lips. "I'll get us some water, Trip," he whispered, taking a deep swallow from his bag. It wasn't necessary to save the rest. Over there was enough water to last until Enterprise came.

Soon Malcolm could see what he was heading for. It had to be an oasis. His eyes watered, blurring his vision, but he was able to make out houses and trees. This planet was inhabited. He would find help. Of course, it might be a problematic first contact, considering the fact that they knew nothing about these people at all. Still, Malcolm hoped that even on this world people would agree to help a living being that was dying of thirst. And besides, what choice did he have?

With his sleeve, Malcolm wiped his eyes to clear his sight, but the picture remained somewhat blurry. The houses still seemed very far away, vanishing instead of growing bigger. All of a sudden, ice water seemed to be running through Malcolm's veins, he was shivering despite the heat and his heart missed a beat. Despite the overwhelming heat Malcolm began to run. He stumbled and fell and in a reflex he used his hands to stop his fall. With a scream of pain, he collapsed when his hands gave way immediately, sending terrible waves of pain through his whole body. For a moment he couldn't breathe. Overwhelmed by the agony and overcome with pain, he started to cry. But then he gritted his teeth and got back to his feet. Sluggishly, he began to stumble forward as if he could catch the image that kept flickering before his eyes and suddenly disintegrated into hot air.

"No!" Malcolm cried, stretching out his aching hands to get the image back. Panting, he dropped to his knees. Unbelieving, he stared at the spot where he had seen houses and trees just a few seconds ago. It had been a Fata Morgana. He had been fooled by a bloody Fata Morgana. He was still alone in this desert with nothing around him but hot sand.

Malcolm felt all energy drain from him. He was still kneeling at the same place, staring at the horizon as if he could get the image back. He felt numb, paralyzed. It couldn't be true. A dry sob came out of his throat. All his hopes had disappeared together with the illusion, leaving nothing but a painful emptiness in its wake. He wanted to lie down in the sand and die. His hands were burning, his insides felt as if they were on fire and he was too exhausted to think straight. He kept staring at the horizon where the air was flickering and transforming into a new Fata Morgana.

With all his strength, Malcolm got to his feet and opened the water bag. There wasn't a lot left, though. His hope of finding water had literally vanished into thin air. How could he have been stupid enough to be fooled by a Fata Morgana? Malcolm Reed, trained security chief of the first Warp 5 ship, skilled tactical officer who had proven his abilities in lots of missions, had chased after an illusion.

Houses and trees were reappearing in the distance, forming almost the same image as before. Malcolm suppressed the rising hope that this image could be for real. It couldn't be real, it was just a picture. A beautiful picture, mocking him. He turned around. His eyes were burning with disappointment and he could hardly follow his own tracks. Thinking of the way back, he couldn't keep the tears at bay anymore. It was hopeless. He was far beyond his deadline. It was impossible to reach the shuttle before the second sun rose. He would die somewhere out here and Trip would never know what had happened to him. He could only hope his friend was going to hold on until Enterprise came to fetch him. Perhaps they would search for him as well. Of course they would. But the thought of how they were going to find him only reminded Malcolm of the fact that he had failed.

He swallowed and went on. He had no other choice, he had to give it a try. Step by step he stumbled along. Soon he realized that his former calculation had been erroneous. Since he was exhausted from the long march and from his sprint, he now walked a lot slower than he had before. Two hours for the search and two hours for the way back wouldn't have worked even if he had turned back on time. Malcolm could have kicked himself. He had been trained for these situations, and should be able to do a simple calculation.

Malcolm stopped when he saw the second sun rise over the horizon. He had no idea how long it was going to take him to reach the shuttle. He couldn't use the scanner anymore; ever since his fall every movement of his hands had sent a white bolt of pain through his arms. But it was the pain that was keeping him conscious, preventing his thoughts from getting cloudy and stopping him from just dropping into the sand to die. However, he didn't even want to think about using his hands.

But he needed to. He needed to drink something, and he was going to need his hands for that. Using his forearm, he pressed the water bag against his chest, shifting it upwards until his teeth could get a grip of the cap. He felt sick with pain when he finally succeeded in opening the bag and when he clamped it between his forearms and lifted his head to drink, he stumbled. The world began spinning around him, his legs gave way and he fell face first into the sand, managing to hold up his hands at the very last moment. The sudden movement sent a stinging wave of pain through his whole body but this time he could prevent his hands from making hard contact with the ground. The water bag was not so lucky, smashing into the sand and spilling most of its remaining contents all over the ground where they seeped away immediately.

Malcolm closed his eyes, waiting for the nausea to subside. He shivered, and at the same time felt cold sweat trickling down his forehead. It wasn't a good sign. He had to go on as long as he was still able to do so.

It was a beautiful sight, the second sun rising at the horizon and making the sand sparkle brightly, but Malcolm didn't see it. Heading straight in the direction of the rising sun, he had to squint his eyes which had started to water because of the bright light. In the meantime, his steps were no longer steady and straight. He was more staggering than walking. And he had no idea how far he was away from the shuttle. Finally he was sure he couldn't go on. He knew he couldn't take another step. When he had dragged Trip back to the shuttle, back on the small moon where they had met the aliens for the first time, he had been thinking the same. But then the situation hadn't been as bad as it was now. Breathing the thin air and carrying Trip's weight had exhausted him, but now he was fighting a losing battle against the heat and his own dehydrated, injured body.

The thought of Trip gave him the strength for one last, desperate effort. Letting Trip down wasn't going to be an option as long as he was still able to crawl. Trip trusted him to come back. Staring down at the ground, he kept following his own tracks. Again he shut out all thoughts; never looking left or right, he concentrated only on setting one foot in front of the other.

He had the feeling of having walked for days. He could hardly believe that he had been struggling with this hostile environment for only six hours. There was nothing in this desert. No plants, no blade of grass, not even a beetle or an ant. Only Malcolm Reed who was beginning to get the feeling that he was doomed to stagger through this hell for ever and ever.

Again the lieutenant fell into the hot sand, completely exhausted. He had drunk the last drop of water an hour ago and both suns were burning in the sky, their full blast drying him up like a prune. Malcolm licked his lips that were dry and cracked and had started to bleed. His tongue felt like sandpaper, and his throat was sore. He had so little saliva left he couldn't even swallow. Once again, Malcolm tried to get to his feet, but his legs gave way immediately. He couldn't go on.

Malcolm felt a merciless darkness clouding his senses. Halfheartedly, he tried to fight it, knowing he wouldn't wake up again. But the thought wasn't that frightening, after all. He was too exhausted to feel scared. In fact, a merciful oblivion sounded tempting. When Malcolm raised his head one last time he could see a shadow in the distance. Not an illusion, this time it was real. It was the shuttle. Realizing that he had almost made it, Malcolm's eyes widened. Safety and shelter were only a few hundred meters away. All he needed to do was fight back the impending darkness and mobilize his last strength. "Come on, Malcolm," he croaked and the words coming out of his sore throat sounded strange to his ears. "You're not going to give up here." He came up to his knees and elbows, starting to crawl. He managed one meter, two meters and a third one. Then he fell to one side and stayed there. The sun's hot beams were the last thing he felt before darkness engulfed him.

"I'm so sorry, Trip. Please forgive me," he murmured, resignedly closing his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Groaning, Trip crawled out from under the console and wiped his sweaty face in a weary gesture. Then he picked up the water bag to take a big gulp. He was finally done. His muscles were aching like hell, even those in his legs which hadn't suffered any strain at all, and he had a hard time controlling the shaking of his hands, but it had been worth it. The helm should be working again. He hadn't been able to reactivate the computer, but the manual override was all set and done. Granted, he had been forced to remove a few more pieces of wall paneling, and knew that all his repair work was little more than a temporary patch up job which could fall apart the second they tried to bring it into function. But it was all he could do. The only thing left to fix were the thrusters, and he would do that as soon as Malcolm was back. With a little luck this scrap heap the shuttle had become was going to take them away from here in less than a few hours. Always assuming, of course, that the planet had something else to offer besides deserts.

Trip looked up. He had no idea how much time had passed, but something told him that Malcolm was long overdue. It was way too hot. The second sun must have risen long since. Trip pulled himself over to the hatch and opened it. He had to squint for the sunlight hit him right in the face, and Trip realized that at least two hours had passed since the second sunrise.

"Dammit, Malcolm, where are you?" Trip was beginning to get worried. There was no way Malcolm could walk for a longer period of time in this heat, and especially not with limited water supplies at his disposal. But maybe he had found water somewhere out there. Maybe he was somewhere waiting in the shadow until the worst midday heat was over. Surely there was no reason to get worried. In all likelihood, Malcolm was doing just fine.

Trip leaned against the hatch, staring out at the desert. No matter how firmly he tried convincing himself that everything was alright, he couldn't get rid of that feeling. The feeling that told him that Malcolm wasn't doing fine at all. That told him that Malcolm had been surprised by the second sunrise and was now slowly being killed by the terrible heat somewhere out in the desert. Hatefully, Trip stared down at his legs. Why the hell couldn't they simply cooperate and allow him to get up? He had to find Malcolm. But how was he supposed to do that without being able to walk?

Trip's eyes followed the tracks Malcolm had left in the sand. If he were only able to follow those tracks, they would lead him directly to Malcolm. His inability to do anything to help his friend made Trip so angry he felt like screaming and hitting something. He brought his fist down on his thigh with a curse, and gasped in pain when his muscles reacted with a short but painful convulsion. Together with the pain his anger subsided, and Trip leaned back against the door, thinking. He didn't have much time left. He had to repair the engine before his body betrayed him again. If he was able to start the shuttle, he could start looking for Malcolm. But without being able to get up he couldn't reach the thrusters. He needed Malcolm to help him.

The engineer closed his eyes for a brief moment, realizing that his thoughts were running in circles. Malcolm wasn't here. He had to solve this problem on his own. Trip let several optional ways of action pass before his mental eye, but found that none of them were really useful. He couldn't build a stairway or find a way to rappel down from the airlock on the shuttle's roof. It would all take too much time and physical strength. He had to think of something else.

When Trip reached out for the rope tied to the hatch's handle, he suddenly spotted something a long way off, a dark spot in the desert. Stopping in his tracks, Trip pulled himself up to see what it was. There definitely was something out there, in a distance of about 500 meters. Trip felt his pulse quickening. Could it be Malcolm? Frantically, he looked around. Where were those binoculars that had fallen from one of the storage compartments? Trip had tried to convince Malcolm to take them with him, but the tactical officer had only smiled a somewhat condescending smile and said that he was far better off with his scanner. Where the hell had he put them?

Trip let out a sigh of relief when he finally spotted the binoculars in a far corner of the shuttle. He crawled back to the hatch, wiped the lenses on his sandy t-shirt and raised the binoculars to his eyes, feeling his heart hammering against his chest.

When the binoculars allowed him a clear view of what it was he was looking at, Trip felt his chest contract painfully. It was Malcolm. Malcolm lying on the sand, not moving at all. Trip ran his teeth across his lower lip. How long had Malcolm been lying there? Was he... was he dead?

Trip put the binoculars aside, leaned back against the hatch and closed his eyes. What the hell was he going to do? He couldn't get out there. It was only about 500 meters, but it could just as well have been 5000. His paralyzed legs would carry him nowhere, and his body was already on the verge of physical collapse. How was he supposed to pull his body through 500 meters of burning hot sand? And even more important, how was he supposed to take Malcolm back to the shuttle? He was feeling weak and dizzy already, and knew what was going to happen if he exerted himself any further. He felt it in every fiber of his aching body. If he took it upon himself to crawl out there, he would suffer another relapse. Trip felt his throat go dry at the idea.

Still, there was no way he could just leave Malcolm out there. Despite all that could happen to him if he tried to reach him, he still had to at least try and save him. Trip wasn't going to consider the pros and cons of putting his health first and leaving Malcolm to die out there in the desert. That was simply out of the question. He'd just force his body to cooperate until Malcolm was rescued, even though Trip had no idea how this rescuing was going to work.

Trip slipped the strap of the last water bag over his shoulder and gathered up a thick rope which he fastened to his waist. Hoping it would provide at least some protection from the merciless sun, he put one of the Starfleet caps on his head, then pushed his legs out the hatch and let go. A dull pain shot through his legs as he dropped onto the sand below, but Trip ignored it, just as he ignored his overall weariness and exhaustion. He didn't have time for that now. He had to get to Malcolm, and wasn't going to be stopped by his own less-than-perfect condition.

500 meters. Under normal circumstances he'd cover that distance in a few minutes without having to get his breath back afterwards. Now, however, his destination could just as well have been the end of the world. The twin suns were burning in the sky, emitting a scorching heat, and the sand felt like live charcoals on his skin. Again, Trip cursed his short-sleeved shirt which exposed his arms to the sunlight as well as to the hot sand. They were reddened with sunburn already, and he knew that staying out here was only going to make it worse.

Meter by meter Trip pulled himself through the sand. The cut on his calf was stinging almost as bad as his arms were. Gritting his teeth, Trip kept his eyes fixed on the small dark spot that was Malcolm, and hoped fervently that he wasn't too late. His friend just couldn't be dead. Trip knew he would never be able to forgive himself if Malcolm died out there.

Trip's breathing was becoming strained, and he felt sweat spring from his brow, trickling into his eyes. His movements became increasingly awkward and slow, and he was hardly able to keep his eyes open anymore, feeling like he was being roasted alive by the blazing suns. It felt like his body was steaming with heat. He had no idea how long he had been crawling through the hot sand, but in the meantime he was able to make out Malcolm's still form quite clearly. Desperately, Trip squinted to see if Malcolm was moving at all, but Reed lay perfectly still.

"Malcolm!" Trip shouted, fighting the dryness of his throat. "Malcolm, can you hear me?"

As he made his way through the sand inch by endless inch, Trip felt close to tears. He was too slow, wasting precious minutes by pulling his body through the sand instead of walking. Minutes that could make the difference between life and death for Malcolm. Trip tried to fasten his pace even though he was already panting and gasping for air. Somewhere at the back of his mind he registered that the skin on his arms was beginning to crack, the sand rubbing against the sore places, but he didn't feel it. His body was one big ocean of pain, and Trip knew that it was sheer willpower that still kept him going. He had to reach Malcolm and see if his friend was still alive.

When he finally reached his destination, Trip was hardly able to believe that he had made it. His lungs were burning from the hot air, and his throat felt as though it was on fire. With shaking hands, Trip felt for a pulse, hardly able to detect the faint throbbing for his own blood was pounding in his ears. Then, however, he felt a vague movement beneath his finger tips. Malcolm was alive. Trip took Reed's shoulder and shook him gently.

"Malcolm! Malcolm, can you hear me? Wake up, Mal."

Malcolm groaned, but gave no response.

"Malcolm!" With an effort, Trip rolled the lieutenant onto his back, propped up his head, and held the water bag to his lips.

"You gotta drink, Malcolm. C'mon!"

Malcolm was barely conscious enough to swallow the water Trip gave him, but then his eyes closed again and his head fell limply back to one side.

"Stay with me, Mal," Trip begged desperately as he lowered the water bag again. "I can't carry you back to the shuttle. You gotta help me, please."

He realized he was talking to an unconscious man. Casting a glance back at the shuttle that seemed miles away, Trip felt tears begin to trickle down his cheeks. Desperately, he scrunched up his eyes to hold them back. He couldn't afford to waste his body's water resources in that way. Clearly, Malcolm's attempt to find water had not worked out. They couldn't stock up their supplies, and all they still had left was in the bag he was carrying.

Trip looked down at Malcolm, considering. Even with both his legs working and able to move, it seemed impossible to carry a body in this heat.

But he couldn't leave Malcolm here. And he couldn't stay with him, either, for the suns would slowly kill them both if he did. Trip took another big gulp of water before he slipped the bag's strap back over his shoulder. Then he unfastened the rope. Somehow, he had to secure Malcolm on his back so he could drag him with him when he crawled back to the shuttle. But what was he supposed to do with Reed's hands? If they dragged through the sand the entire way, Malcolm's injuries would only get worse. Coming to a decision, Trip rolled his friend back onto his stomach. He cut off a piece of rope and tied Malcolm's hands loosely behind his back.

"Sorry, old buddy," he muttered. "It's nothin' personal."

Trip slipped the rope under Reed's arms. Then he somehow lifted the other man onto his back, fiddling with the rope until Malcolm was more or less safely secured. It was a difficult task, but somehow, he should be able to half-carry, half-drag the lieutenant along with him. But that was the problem - he still had to get back. The same distance, but this time with an additional weight on his back. Trip smiled grimly as he realized the irony of the situation.

"Well, at least now I can return the favor of carryin' me back to the shuttle," he joked, remembering how Malcolm had saved him from the alien lab back on that moon all those weeks ago. But at the time, Malcolm had at least been able to walk. Trip sighed, gathered his strength and began to slowly pull himself forward. Again and again, he tried to talk to Malcolm, wake him up. If Malcolm was able to walk or at least crawl only a few steps on his own, it would be a big help. But Malcolm didn't move, nor did he give any sound. Trip was worried. Even through the layers of clothing he could feel the heat Reed's body was emitting; he was burning up, and more likely than not it wasn't only the after-effects of staying in the sun for too long. Trip hoped fervently that they were going to make it back to the shuttle still in time.

Trip fought a battle against his own body, and he was determined to win it. At times, he felt like another contact with the hot, grazing sand would simply be too much for his sore arms, and with every movement he felt part of his strength being drained away.

"I - hate - deserts," he uttered through gritted teeth, with a fervor that surprised himself. Save your breath, he scolded himself inwardly, reaching out to pull himself forward yet again. In the meantime he was feeling nauseous with sheer exhaustion, and felt like he was going to be sick any minute. Black spots were dancing in front of his eyes, and his head was pounding. Trip uttered a silent prayer that he wouldn't lose consciousness. His pulse was throbbing in his ears, and the blood in his veins seemed to be boiling. The hot air burned in his lungs, and Malcolm's heavy body was pressing him down, making it harder and harder for him to move. But giving up was not an option. He was almost there. The shuttle was only a few meters away.

Shortly before he had reached the small vessel, the world began to spin around him. Trip's arms gave way under him, and he fell face forward in the sand. He tried to take a deep breath to get rid of the nausea that was threatening to overwhelm him, but the air was too hot to draw it deep into his lungs. He felt so sick he was hardly able to think straight. Suddenly his stomach gave a lurch, and Trip was barely able to raise his head when his meager morning meal came back up. But the feeling of nausea wouldn't subside. Trip choked and retched, afraid he'd throw up his guts if it didn't stop soon. His throat felt like it was on fire, and when the nausea finally wore off, Trip closed his eyes in relief. He still felt weak and exhausted, but at least his upset stomach had settled again. After covering the vomit with sand, Trip raised the water bag to his lips and took a sip to rid himself of the vile taste in his mouth.

Then he looked back at the shuttle. Only twenty meters to go. He'd come that far, he was going to manage the last few meters as well. Malcolm still hadn't moved, and again Trip became aware of the heat his body was radiating. He had to get Malcolm out of the sun. Briefly closing his eyes, Trip took a deep breath. Then he straightened his arms and began to pull himself forward.

When he had finally reached the hatch, Trip didn't even have the strength left to feel relieved. He cut the rope he had used to secure Malcolm's body and rolled the lieutenant off his back. Trip felt tempted to lie down in the sand and rest for a few minutes, but the last great effort still lay before him. He had to lift Malcolm into the shuttle. Panting and gasping for air, he pulled and pushed the heavy body through the hatch, then climbed in as well. When Trip reached up to close the hatch, a tremor ran through his arm. He had to use both hands to pull down the hatch, and lost his balance as he fastened the rope with shaking fingers. He fell on his side, but instead of getting up again, he simply stayed where he was, enjoying the feeling of lying perfectly still. He'd made it.

Despite his relief at having brought Malcolm back, however, Trip knew that he would have to pay a hefty price for this rescue mission. His body ached for some much-needed rest, but there were still things left for him to do. He had to take care of Malcolm.

Taking a few deep breaths, Trip fought to stop the uncontrolled shaking by sheer willpower, and waited for his racing heart to slow down. With trembling hands, he untied Malcolm's hands and rolled the lieutenant onto his back. Reed's face was pale and puffed up, his skin hot and dry. He was running a high fever. Carefully, Trip wet the cleanest rag he could find and washed Malcolm's face, then wet the rag again and placed it on the lieutenant's hot forehead. Reaching out for the med kit, Trip considered applying a new bandage to Malcolm's hands, but then decided against it. His own hands were shaking with exhaustion, and he surmised he would do more damage than good if he tried to peel those things off Malcolm's hands.

The lieutenant's hands were infected; Trip didn't have to be a doctor to make that diagnosis. He could smell it. And the yellowish stains on the bandages were not only dirt left from the sand; Trip saw that the white mull was soaked with pus. The idea of leaving those hands untreated didn't sit well with Trip, but he would have to wait until his own trembling subsided before he tried to do anything about it. No need to add to Malcolm's pain by trying to treat him when he wasn't in the condition to do so. But at least he could give Malcolm some antibiotics, something for the fever and another painkiller. Sadly, Trip stared down at their dwindling supplies. He could have used a little painkiller himself. Judging by the stinging pain in his leg, the cut on his calf was infected as well, and his arms were still burning like hell, covered with small, dark drops of blood. Still, Malcolm needed the analgesic more than he did. Trip filled half of the left-over painkiller into a hypo, a difficult task with his hands trembling and shaking. He had to concentrate very hard, using his left hand to stabilize the right one while he injected Malcolm with the analgesic. Even though the dose wasn't large enough to numb all of the pain, Malcolm should be alright until the early evening.

When Trip pressed the hypo with the fever-reducer against Malcolm's neck, Reed moaned softly, and opened his eyes. Still disoriented, he took a look around. "Where am I?"

"Back in the shuttle, Mal." Forcing his hands to stop shaking, Trip raised the water bag to Reed's lips. "Drink this."

"There is no water," the lieutenant whispered hoarsely. His eyes were clouded, and he still seemed quite out of it.

"Yes, there is," Trip said reassuringly. "C'mon, Mal, you gotta drink somethin'."

Obediently, Malcolm took a sip. Trip gave him as much of the water as possible. It was all they still had left, but if Malcolm didn't drink enough liquid now, he was going to die. When Trip finally lowered Reed's head back to the floor, there were only a few mouthfuls left in the bag. Trip let them slowly run down his throat, enjoying every single drop. Might as well be the last water he ever saw in his life. But it wasn't even enough to wash the sand out of his mouth. Trip shook the bag to see if there were still a few drops left, then put it aside. Well, that was that. For how long would they be able to survive without any water, stranded in the middle of a desert?

Trip looked down at his friend who had fallen asleep in the meantime. At least he wasn't unconscious anymore. Letting out a deep sigh, Trip lay down on the floor, finally allowing his body the rest it needed so badly. A pillow would be nice, but he didn't have the strength left to get one from one of the bunks. For a while the painful tugging and throbbing in his muscles kept him awake, and he felt the shaking spread, taking possession of his whole body as he tried to relax. Then, however, even that sensation faded away, and Trip slipped into an exhausted sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

The first thing Malcolm felt was surprise at the hard surface he was lying on. He remembered collapsing on the sand, the hot grains pressing into his cheek. This, however, felt different; hard and smooth, and a lot cooler.

With an effort, he raised his head and squinted to get rid of the haze that was blurring his eyes. Slowly, his vision cleared and he saw that he was in the shuttlepod. How had he come to be here? Groaning, he pushed himself into a sitting position, which wasn't an easy task without being able to use his hands for support. He looked down at them. The pain had subsided, and all he felt was a slight tugging.

Why wasn't he dead? Why was he back in the shuttlepod? The answer came when he looked at Trip, who lay on the floor in a bright patch of sunlight, looking at him with weary eyes. He looked awful. Malcolm had no idea how the engineer had managed to bring him back to the shuttle, but somehow he had, that much was clear.

"How did you do that?" Malcolm asked, disbelief evident in his tone.

"Well, I couldn't really leave you lyin' out there."

"Trip, I... I don't know what to say." Malcolm leaned his head back against the wall and allowed himself a moment's rest. Trip seemed to have found him still in time before the sun had left any lasting damage; considering the time he'd spent out there he didn't even feel that bad. His head was throbbing, and he felt rather parched and tired, but not as bad as he would have expected.

"How d'you feel?"

At Trip's question, Malcolm opened his eyes. "I'm okay. And... and I'm sorry I screwed up so miserably."

"Because you didn't find any water? Not even you can find somethin' that isn't there, Malcolm."

"Still." Malcolm's eyes fell on the water bag which looked rather flat. "We'll have to go easy on what is still left."

"There's nothin' left. It's all gone."

"What?" Malcolm's head snapped around. "You still had two liters when I left this morning! Did you drink it all up?"

The hurt expression in Trip's eyes was visible for only a fleeting second, but it was long enough for Malcolm to feel a sharp pang of guilt. Trip would never drink all the water himself. Malcolm blanched when he realized what had really happened.

"You made me drink it," he said, swallowing hard.

Trip didn't answer.

"Say this isn't true, Trip." Malcolm shook his head in despair. "Please say you didn't give me all the water."

"I didn't. The last mouthful I drank myself."

Malcolm felt miserable. This couldn't be true. How could he have allowed Trip to give him their last water?

"You needed it, Mal. You almost got a sunstroke out there. You needed water." Trip ran his tongue over his dry lips. "Besides, that's not our biggest problem."

"Not our biggest problem? We don't have any water left!" Malcolm's voice was full of sarcasm and anger that was directed towards himself. He was not ready to forgive himself for using up their last supplies. "What could possibly be worse than that?"

Trip swallowed. "I can't move anymore."

Malcolm's eyes widened. "What?"

Trip gave no answer, but his face said it all.

"But... why, all of a sudden?" Malcolm broke off. He knew why, of course. He was back in the shuttle. And he hadn't walked back on his own, two healthy feet. Trip had brought him here, had somehow dragged his unconscious body back to the shuttlepod and at the same time pushed his own, already exhausted body well past its limits. It was to be expected that he would suffer another relapse, a relapse that was even worse than the first one.

"Damnit!" Malcolm swore angrily. This was the last thing they needed. What were they going to do now? If Trip wasn't able to move, they were both helpless.

Malcolm threw a glance at his friend. He was covered in dirt and sweat, and lay in a twisted position on the floor of the shuttle, with no protection from the glaring sunlight that came through the broken front window. Malcolm had been surprised that Trip hadn't moved into the shadow, but of course there was no way he could do so. Malcolm could only imagine how Trip must be feeling. He looked so tired and exhausted. Was it going to start all over again, all the pain and suffering Trip had been through? And it was all his, Reed's, fault, if it did.

Slowly, Malcolm got to his feet. He scrunched his eyes shut and took a deep breath to rid himself of the giddy feeling that threatened to overwhelm him.

"What're you doin'?" Trip asked.

"Getting you out of the sun."

"And how're you gonna do that?"

"I have no idea. But you can't stay there. You'll suffer a heatstroke if you stay in the sun any longer."

Malcolm raised an arm to shade his eyes from the hot sunbeams that were pouring into the shuttle, heating up the pod like a small steel oven. This bloody planet really seemed out to get them.

Kneeling down behind Trip, Malcolm used his knees and elbows to push his friend's motionless body towards the wall. Trip moaned softly, and Malcolm immediately stopped in his tracks.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, s'okay." Trip tried to keep the pain out of his voice as he spoke. It was different this time. After his last relapse his legs had simply stopped moving, but he hadn't suffered any pain. Like he did now. The painful tugging in his muscles had woken him up earlier, and it seemed to be getting worse and worse. But there was no need to tell Malcolm. The realization that he was once again paralyzed from the neck down hadn't really surprised Trip, but had shocked him deeply nonetheless. He had so hoped that his body wasn't going to betray him, as it had done time and again before. A hope that had been shattered the second he had opened his eyes and tried to move his arm. A few times he had tried to wake Malcolm, but his friend's exhausted sleep had been too deep to get through to him. So for almost an hour Trip had been lying helplessly in the hot sun without any possibility to protect his body from the heat or even to cover his eyes to keep out the glaring sun. One hour, during which he had tried time and again to move his arms, hoping to grab hold of something in order to move away from the worst sunlight. But his body refused to cooperate, wouldn't budge no matter what he did.

Malcolm was panting when he had finally managed to move Trip into the narrow shade the shuttle wall provided. But at least here the heat was bearable.

"Thanks." Trip let out a sigh of relief. "I don't think I could've stood it much longer."

Malcolm sat down next to him on the floor. "I'm so sorry, Trip."

"What d'you mean?"

"It's my fault this happened. You should have left me out there."

"Leave you out there to die? Right, Mal."

"But you're paying for it now. Did you know that this was going to happen?"

"I was afraid it would. The symptoms were quite clear. But it doesn't matter. At least we're together."

"It does matter, Trip. You can't move, and it's my fault you've suffered another relapse."

"Mal, if anyone's to blame for this, then it's me. It was my decision, not yours."

"But I was the cause." Malcolm looked down at Trip. While dragging over the deck, the engineer's legs had come to lie on top of one another, and it didn't look like it was a very comfortable position, down there on the floor. Malcolm silently swore at himself. He couldn't even help Trip get comfortable. If he had turned around in time, then there would have been no need for Trip to crawl out there and bring his own body to the verge of collapse and beyond. No matter what Trip said, if he had stuck to his plan he would have been able to return to the shuttle on his own feet, and Trip wouldn't be suffering now. "I'm such a bloody idiot!" he swore. "Do you know why I didn't make it? Because I went too far. I saw trees and houses, and kept blindly walking towards them instead of using my brain."

"You mean you were hallucinatin'?"

"No. It was a Fata Morgana. And I was too stupid to see that it wasn't real. I was actually surprised when it suddenly vanished right in front of my eyes."

Trip looked up at him, a strange expression in his eyes. "You do know what a Fata Morgana is, don't you?"

"Of course I do. It's a mirage."

"Yes, but how does it come into existence?"

Malcolm sighed. He wasn't very keen on having a lengthy discussion about his failure. "A Fata Morgana shows objects which can be several thousand kilometers away." His mouth dropped open. "Bloody hell," he said as the realization hit him. "This damn planet is inhabited, after all. These houses exist somewhere." He closed his eyes. Somehow, this discovery made it even worse. After the first excitement had subsided, the feeling of abandonment became even stronger than before. What use was there in knowing that there were people who might be able to help them, if there was no way to get away from this hellhole?

Malcolm turned back to Trip, but stopped in his tracks when he noticed that the engineer's face was contorted in pain. Looking closer, he also noticed a faint tremor that ran through Trip's arms and legs.

"Cramps?" he asked carefully.

Trip only nodded and gritted his teeth to suppress a loud groan. His breathing came in ragged, strained gasps.

Malcolm felt miserable at his own inability to help. When Trip had suffered these spasms last time, he and Hoshi had massaged the commander's body until the pain had relented. Now he wasn't able to do anything to help Trip. Watching helplessly how the cramps tormented his friend stirred anger in Malcolm, and he could have kicked himself.

After a while, the convulsive trembling lessened, and Trip relaxed a little. Malcolm got up and went over to the back bunk. He believed there was a pillow lying around somewhere, and maybe he could use it to get Trip a little more comfortable down there on the floor. As he took hold of the pillow with his teeth, Malcolm's eyes fell on the microwave oven. Or at least on the remains of the device. What the hell had Trip been up to? Well, never mind, he wasn't going to stand here with a pillow in his mouth and think about irrelevant matters. Slowly, he shuffled back over to Trip, sank to his knees and let go of the pillow.

"Can you raise your head?"

"Yes, I think so."

Using his elbows, Malcolm slid the pillow under Trip's head. When he sat back up, the giddy feeling returned and he leaned heavily against the bulkhead. The heat was taking its toll of him, and he felt exhausted after walking only a few steps. Even worse was his thirst, but it couldn't be helped. There was no water left, not a single drop in any of the bags.

Malcolm studied his friend. The pain seemed to have subsided; Trip had his eyes closed, and seemed to have dozed off. He was in a miserable condition, but Malcolm supposed he wasn't looking any better. His lips were raw and cracked as well, and his skin was beginning to dry up and break. On top of that, however, Trip also sported a nasty sunburn which had become even worse when he had left the shuttle to get to Malcolm. The skin on his forearms was grazed by the sand, reddened and bloody, even forming small blisters here and there. Malcolm bit his lips when he thought of how Trip had crawled through the hot sand to get him back to the shuttle. And then his eyes fell on Trip's leg.

"What's that?"

"What?" Trip opened his eyes.

"That." Malcolm jerked his chin in the direction of Trip's leg. His calf was badly swollen, stretching the torn fabric of the jeans and allowing a clear view of the blood-caked, suppurating cut beneath. "Where did you get that?"

"When we crashed."

"When we crashed?" Malcolm repeated incredulously. "Are you crazy? Why didn't you tell me? Or at least put a bandage on that cut?"

"Didn't have the time."

"Bullshit. You spent all your time taking care of me, and neglected yourself. That's crazy, Trip. If I had known..."

"And that's exactly why I didn't tell you. Now stop bitchin', Malcolm, can't be changed anyway."

Malcolm calmed down somewhat. "Are you in pain?"

"It's okay." In the meantime Trip had almost gotten used to the constant stinging and throbbing in his calf.

"You should have kept some of the painkiller for yourself."

Trip shook his head. "You need it more than I do. I'm sure your hands hurt a lot worse than my leg."

"It's not too bad yet." Malcolm had no illusions about his condition. He knew it was only the analgesic which made the pain bearable. As soon as the painkiller wore off, his hands would send him straight to hell and hurt even worse than they had when he had collapsed out there in the desert.

"I'm sorry, Malcolm."

"Really? Join the club. What are you sorry for, anyway?"

The corner of Trip's mouth twitched, but he quickly grew serious again. "I can't even inject you with the rest of the analgesics."

"Well, that's hardly your fault, is it?"

"Yes it is. We could've been gone from here a long time ago if I had only used my brain. Could've saved us a lot of trouble. You walkin' out into the desert in order to find water where there's not a single drop to be found, my relapse... it wasn't necessary for all this to happen."

Malcolm stared at him. "I don't understand."

"I've repaired the helm, Mal. I could've done it a lot sooner, but I guess I was jus' bein' dense."

Malcolm's eyes shifted to the remains of the microwave oven, and he realized what Trip was talking about.

"You used the microwave's components."

"Right. D'you have any idea why I didn't think of that in the first place? I was sittin' right in front of it, warmed up the rations and never even thought of usin' its circuits to repair the console. Talk about blockheaded."

"You're not blockheaded, Trip. So you're not superman. Big surprise. You can't always think of everything."

"But it could've saved our lives."

"Maybe. Who knows? But there's no use in blaming yourself, Trip."

Trip threw him a doubting look. Malcolm wanted to put a reassuring hand on the engineer's shoulder, show him that it was okay, but of course there was no way he could do so.

"So you're saying we could take off right here and now if one of us was able to work the helm's controls?"

"No, I still have to take a look at the thrusters. But it wouldn't take more'n one hour, at the most. And then we could be gone from here."

Malcolm grinned sourly. "Shit."

Trip sighed. "Exactly."

Again, Malcolm closed his eyes. There seemed nothing to add. Neither of them was able to do the necessary repair work, and all they could do was sit here and wait for it to end. Or for Enterprise to come and pick them up, but Malcolm didn't believe that was going to happen. The ship was still too far away, and miracles tended to be conspicuous by their absence when you really needed them.

Trip was lost in his own thoughts. His fears had come true; it seemed like his body reacted with another relapse every time he over-exerted himself. Climbing the stairs in Engineering had rendered his legs useless, and now his whole body had shut down, leaving him completely immobilized. And there was no reason why it shouldn't stay that way for the rest of his life. Five days had passed since his first relapse, and his legs still showed no sign of life. Strangely enough, the idea of being paralyzed for life didn't even frighten him that much. Trip was simply too exhausted to be afraid. Besides, why waste time and energy worrying about the future? Being out here in the desert with not a single drop of water left, it didn't really make any difference whether he was still able to move. In all likelihood, he'd never find out if his condition was going to improve or not.

The minutes dragged by at snail's pace, an almost eerie silence hanging over the shuttle. As if we were already dead, Malcolm thought. Talking hurt his cracked lips, but that was still better than this deadly quiet.

"Are you awake, Trip?"

"Hmm."

"Trip... are you afraid of dying?"

There was a moment's silence, then Trip let out a sigh. "As long as I'm not gonna suffocate again..."

He left the sentence unfinished, but Malcolm understood. He felt a shiver run down his spine when he thought of the terrible minutes when Trip's lungs had shut down.

"You afraid it's going to happen again?"

"I don't know, Malcolm. But it happened the same way last time; first my legs shut down, and then the rest of my body. My respiration would be next."

Malcolm shook his head in dismay. No, he wasn't even going to think of that possibility. He didn't think he would be able to go through this once again, to watch helplessly as his friend was slowly choked to death. Dammit, he wasn't even able to stun him with a phaser. No, this couldn't happen.

"Have you noticed any symptoms?"

"No. But that doesn't mean there aren't any. Remember how quickly it happened last time."

"Trip, there's still the possibility that your body is simply reacting to the strain, and has only temporarily shut down. Maybe if you rest for a while, you'll be able to move again."

"I don't think so. The paralysis didn't go away after my first relapse, either."

"But then you weren't experiencing any pain."

"Right. It's different this time. It hurts, and I don't think it's gonna get better any time soon."

"But it doesn't necessarily have to get worse, either. Your body has shut down, but that doesn't mean your respiration will be affected as well. All you have to do is hold on until Enterprise comes to pick us up."

"I hope you're right."

Worriedly, Malcolm looked down at Trip who grimaced again, biting his already sore lips. He had to try and keep his friend's mind off his pain, but talking about death maybe wasn't the best approach.

"I'm sure the captain'll move heaven and earth to find us in time."

"Oh yes." Trip allowed himself a strained smile. "Jon would personally get out and push if he thought it'd speed her up."

"I'm sure he's beside himself with worry about you."

"About us, Malcolm."

"Maybe, but you're still special to the captain. More like a little brother than a friend."

"You sayin' he's more worried about me than about Porthos?" The corner of Trip's mouth was twitching.

"You're thinking of the time back on Kreetassia when Porthos watered those sacred trees and got sick afterwards?"

Trip chuckled. "Yeah. I've never seen Jon like that before. He was up all night, prowlin' the corridors and bitin' off people's heads, all because he was completely at a loss how to deal with the situation. Leave it to the Kreetassians to annoy the hell out of anyone who asks them a favor. Poor Jon, I know how he was feelin'."

"I know what you mean." Malcolm smiled as well. "They accused us of being rude because we didn't adjust our ship's time to that of their planet. Believe me, I've met strange people before, but the Kreetassians sure beat them all."

Trip was grinning all over his face, even though the pain was still evident in his eyes. "Too bad you weren't there when they made Jon saw that tree into pieces. Painted his upper body and made him wear those ribbons in his hair. He looked like he wished for the ground to open up and swallow him."

"But he managed quite well, from what I've heard."

"I should've taken a picture."

"Well, the captain gave you explicit orders to leave your camera back on Enterprise. And with good reason, as I might add. Your constant chuckling the next few days was bad enough."

"Still, it would've been worth a little insubordination. Talk about blackmail." Trip grinned.

"He'd have made you clean the warp coils with a tooth brush if he had caught you taking pictures down there."

"Maybe. But it's not like Jon's all that innocent himself. I didn't find it all that funny either, bein' pregnant, but Jon had a great time, grinnin' all over his face whenever he saw me."

"That's not true. He was very worried about you, just like the rest of us."

"Yeah, and he almost split his sides, just like the rest of you."

"Well, you've got to admit, you don't meet a pregnant man everyday. And it does seem like these things always happen to you. Like getting pregnant, crashlanding with a princess on an alien planet..."

"... or joinin' you on shuttle missions that routinely strand us either in the desert or in the middle of deep space," Trip finished his sentence. "Guess you're right," he admitted. "Sometimes I wonder why the cap'n still lets me out of the ship."

"Because you're his best officer." Malcolm smiled. "Second to me, of course."

Trip played along. "Of course. No doubt about that." He smiled briefly, but then fell silent again, wondering if he'd ever see Jon again. The captain was special to him, too. More than just a buddy. Trip remembered the time when he'd lain in sickbay, unable to move, and the captain had come and taken him back to his quarters. As embarrassed as Trip had been, allowing his best friend to wash and feed him, he knew that he had grown even closer to Jon during those days. Malcolm was right; Jon was like an older brother to him, always there for him when he needed his help. Like now, when all he could do was wait for the captain to come and pick them up.

It was characteristic of Jon, to worry about his crew. Trip had seen the captain's face when that mine had speared Malcolm to the outer hull of the ship. No one had been able to talk Jon out of going out there himself. Jonathan Archer was a people person, and it was the reason why all of the crew trusted him with their lives.

Only... would he be able to do it again? Work a miracle to find them still in time?

Trip drew in a sharp breath when his body began to torment him again. The worst thing was that he had to bear the pain lying completely motionless. He gritted his teeth. The cut in his calf felt like white-hot needles pricking the inside of his skin, and his sunburnt arms were giving him hell. The sand inside his clothes was rubbing against his skin, creating a terrible itch. And on top of everything else there were those cramps, which wouldn't allow him a minute's rest and peace. His body was immobilized already, so where did those convulsions come from that were racking his muscles and sending stabs of pain through his arms and legs? If he'd only been able to massage them, or at least curl up to ease the pain somewhat. Trip cursed his weak body which always let him down when he needed it the most. Which wouldn't even allow him a few hours of sleep. He was so tired, but every time he was starting to doze off another cramp ran through his muscles and woke him up again.

Malcolm threw a worried glance at his friend, who was once again writhing in pain. Even though writhing wasn't really the right word. Trip's motionless body belied his face that was contorted in pain.

With an almost inaudible groan, Trip gritted his teeth when another wave of convulsions shook his body. He didn't want to give any indication of his pain in front of Malcolm, but he couldn't suppress a small whimper.

"It's okay, Mal," he whispered hoarsely. But the tears that were running down his face told Malcolm quite clearly that it wasn't okay. Briefly, Malcolm wondered how Trip could still have water left for tears; his own eyes were so dry they were starting to burn in their sockets. His insides contracted painfully as he witnessed Trip's agony. If he'd only been able to help him. From the corner of his eye he threw a glance at the med kit which still contained one dose of analgesic. Briefly, Malcolm considered finding a way to inject Trip with a hypo, but with a resigned glance at his hands he dismissed the idea. There was no way he could touch anything with those fingers, let alone load a spray and press it against Trip's neck. Malcolm wished more than anything he could do something to help his friend, find something to keep his mind off those cramps. But he was too tired to find another topic of conversation, and Trip didn't seem very keen on talking, either. Malcolm felt weariness creep into his arms and legs, but there was no way he would go to sleep as long as Trip was in such pain. It was the least thing he could do; keep him company at a time like this.

Again, Malcolm looked down at his bandaged hands. The pain was bearable, even though he always felt a slight tugging. So that was it? Were they going to spend their last hours like this, Trip unable to move and tormented by those cramps, with Malcolm sitting helplessly next to him, not able to do anything to help?

Malcolm had no illusions about the fact that the pain would catch up with him sooner or later as well. Now, the slight throbbing was still bearable, even though he felt a sharp stab of agony shoot up his arms whenever he tried to move his hands. Reed knew it was only the painkiller that stopped them from sending him straight to hell. As soon as the effect of the analgesic wore off, he was going to be the one writhing in pain. Trip wasn't able to inject him with any more of the numbing substances, and he knew he couldn't do it himself either.

Malcolm felt terribly hot. It wasn't only the desert climate, but also his temperature which had risen again. The bandages that covered his hands were stiff with dirt and pus. Malcolm tried not to think of how his hands must look. Maybe his fingers were already starting to rot. He knew that he would never be able to use them again, and this prospect took away any hope he might still have left. If Phlox had treated him immediately after the crash, he might have been able to save them. But now it was too late. A tactical officer with no hands. Brilliant. But it really didn't make any difference anymore. When Enterprise arrived, they were both going to be dead anyway, died of heat stroke or thirst, it didn't really matter which.

Malcolm watched Trip's eyes slowly drooping close, his exhaustion finally defeating the pain. After a while, the engineer slipped into a restless sleep, and didn't even react when another tremor ran through his legs. Malcolm sighed in relief. Maybe now his friend would finally find some rest. And he, too. Malcolm closed his eyes, and realized that he didn't even care if he woke up again or not.


	10. Chapter 10

Jonathan Archer sat in his ready room, staring at the computer screen, but he didn't really see the data displayed on the monitor in front of him. His mind was completely occupied with something else. Archer was worried. And it was only with great effort that he fought the urge to get up and vent some of his restlessness by pacing to and fro. They'd been flying at top speed for several days now, the Engineering crew pulling double shifts in order to keep the strained warp engine up to scratch. Archer had no idea how she had done it, but Lieutenant Hess had even managed to speed her up to warp 5.2 - only for short periods of time, of course. In the meantime they were back to a steady warp 4.85. Trip was going to be proud of his team when he heard how hard they had worked during his absence.

Trip. Archer's thoughts kept returning to his friend, and he wondered how he was doing. Being locked up in a crammed shuttle was bad enough if one was still able to walk. But Trip was confined to sitting or lying, or using his arms when he wanted to get somewhere on his own. Archer sighed when he thought of the humiliation of having to resort to such means. Here on Enterprise Trip's handicap wasn't such a big problem. With his wheelchair he was able to get almost everywhere on his own without having to ask for help. But now he had to feel terribly helpless, locked up in that shuttlepod. Jon was sure Malcolm was going to take good care of Trip, but still, he wished he could have been there himself. Why ever had he ordered Trip on this mission? The captain knew better than everyone else that every away mission was potentially dangerous. And Trip had a special knack for finding trouble wherever he went. Archer smiled bitterly, remembering the tense minutes back on the bridge after the shuttle had disappeared in the anomaly. All but holding their breath, they had desperately waited for a life sign from the two officers. Even T'Pol had shown a certain... apprehension in her posture. They all knew only too well that the anomaly could transport the shuttle to a far away place somewhere in deep space, making it impossible for Enterprise to ever find their two lost crewmembers again.

The time that had passed since Trip's last transmission had dragged by at a snail's pace. Jon bit his lips, fighting the urge to ask Hoshi if she had finally located the communications buoy Trip had been planning to release. He knew the young communications officer would report it immediately if her scanners picked something up, and there was no use in increasing the general nervousness by pestering her every other minute.

Noticing T'Pol watching him, Archer pulled himself together. He was the captain, and he mustn't let his apprehension show.

"You are aware of the fact, Captain," T'Pol began, "that we can only receive a transmission if we are within comm range of the subspace transmitter the commander was going to release. But the chances that the shuttle has been taken to areas of space where we will not be able to retrieve it are ..."

"I'm picking something up," Hoshi interrupted the Vulcan.

"The subspace transmitter?"

"I think so." Hoshi recalibrated her sensors and listened. Then her lips curved upwards in a smile. "It is the subspace transmitter, Captain."

Jon let out a breath of relief. If they were able to receive the transmitter's signal, then the shuttle was still within reach. "Where are they?"

"Just a moment, Captain." Hoshi looked up. "It looks like they've been taken to the other side of the nebula."

"Thank God," Travis muttered in a low voice, but still audible from his place at the helm. "I was afraid they'd ..."

"Yes, Ensign," Archer cut him off. "We all were." He turned to T'Pol. "Have you found a way we can get through that nebula?"

T'Pol bent over her instruments. "The data of the probe Commander Tucker released are coming in. Our assumption was correct. There is no way to take a ship the size of Enterprise through the nebula."

"Can we contact the shuttle?"

Hoshi shook her head. "I've been trying, but the nebula interferes with the comm signal."

"So we have to fly around it." Archer sighed. "I'm starting to get really sick of nebulae. Travis, set a course. The shortest route around the nebula. Hoshi, tell Lieutenant Hess we need everything her engines have got over the next few days. We've got to get our boys back."

Back in his ready room, Archer allowed himself a small smile when he thought of T'Pol's raised eyebrows when he had called the two officers "our boys". He turned back to the computer display that showed Enterprise's current course. They'd been on their way for four days now, and the initial relief had vanished to be replaced by restlessness. The probe had only transmitted for a short while, then its signal had suddenly vanished. Same with the subspace transmitter whose signal had all of a sudden disappeared from Hoshi's sensors. What was happening out there? There had to be a reason the probes had disappeared. Had they been destroyed? Was there something out there that was a potential danger to Trip and Malcolm as well? Patience had never been one of Jon's strong sides. It was driving him nuts, thinking of all the things that could happen to the small shuttle out there in deep space. And of course there was Trip with his paralyzed legs.

Jon shook his head. No matter how hard he tried distracting himself, his thoughts kept returning to Trip. He should have never sent him on this mission in the first place. If something happened to him out there, then it was his, Jon's, fault. And in that case Jon would never be able to forgive himself. He'd gone too far in his attempt at finding something to keep Trip's mind off his worries. Remembering Trip's weary face, Jon sighed. He could only hope Trip was going to hold on. Well, at least there was Malcolm to take care of him. Archer smiled sourly, thinking that Malcolm certainly preferred Trip's company to that of his captain, locked up in that crammed shuttle. It had always been a mystery to Jon how Trip had managed to build up such a close friendship with Enterprise's reticent armory officer, a friendship that had grown closer and stronger the better the two men got to know each other. Jon remembered the hours he had spent with Malcolm, keeping a nightly vigil over a dangerously ill Trip. Aware of the captain's presence, Malcolm had tried to maintain a stoic countenance, but he had not always managed. Every time he had looked at Trip, who was lying motionless on the bio bed, hooked up to the respirator that was keeping him alive, his controlled mask had slipped and allowed a glimpse of a very vulnerable lieutenant who was worried to death about his friend. Their equal concern for Trip had united them despite their different ranks, and the long hours they had waited for Trip to show a sign of improvement had formed a new understanding between them. Archer had always trusted his security officer, but then this trust had grown more personal. Both of them were aware of the other's worry about their friend, and so they had finally found an equal basis they could interact on. Jon had the impression that ever since Malcolm had been less reserved when talking to him. Which didn't mean, of course, that Reed would enjoy spending six days locked up in a shuttle with his captain.

Jon took a deep breath. He was sure his two officers had the situation under control. He ought to be content with knowing that the shuttle hadn't ended up in another galaxy, and that they were going to rendezvous in two days. And if nothing else, then maybe the whole thing would have a positive effect on Trip's emotional condition. Jon remembered their conversation on the observation deck. He hadn't yet found the time to talk to Phlox whether Trip's physical weakness was going to be a permanent condition. Well, that wasn't quite the truth. There had been enough time during the last few days while they had flown around the nebula, but Jon had been secretly afraid to hear Phlox confirm his fears. He knew Phlox couldn't deny the possibility, since he didn't know enough about either the poison or the cure to do so. But as long as the doctor hadn't said aloud that Trip was going to suffer these relapses for the rest of his life, Jon could still believe that it wasn't going to be so. It was an irrational way of thinking, but right now Jon couldn't bring himself to seek for certainty.

"Bridge to Captain Archer. There's a ship approaching on an intercept course."

Jon looked up. Hopefully this didn't mean more trouble. The last thing he needed now were further delays. What he could need, though, was a little help. Maybe these people could tell him how to take Enterprise through the nebula. He got up and stepped onto the bridge.

"Do we know what kind of ship it is?"

"Negative, Captain," T'Pol responded.

"They're hailing us," Hoshi said.

"Can you understand what they're saying?"

"The UT is online and working. We should drop out of warp."

"Alright, Travis, disengage warp drive. Let's hear what they want." Jon nodded at Hoshi who established a connection.

"This is Captain Archer from the starship Enterprise," Jon introduced himself. "Is there something we can do for you?"

The image of a tall woman with short gray hair appeared on the screen. Except for her very porous skin and flat nose she looked almost human. She lowered her head as a way of greeting.

"I'm Captain K'Tokh and I represent the people of Merak. You are about to enter our territory." Her voice was dark and cold, causing Archer to shiver inwardly.

"I apologize," he said in a polite but firm voice. "We are on a rescue mission. Two of my officers are on the other side of that nebula ..."

"Your officers flew inside that nebula?" K'Tokh asked, her nostrils trembling.

"Yes. Do you know about the anomaly?"

"Of course. I still can't allow you to enter our territory."

"Maybe you do not understand the urgency of our current mission. My officers are in a shuttle and their chances of survival are diminishing with every delay. I'm asking you to allow us to cross your territory."

"No, Captain. This is not open to discussion." The woman slightly tilted her head. "I understand you are worried about your crewmen. But I have orders to defend our borders at all cost."

"Why? What harm can a single space ship crossing your territory do? We are on a mission of peace."

"I'm not in the position to discuss the decisions of the Merakian High Council. But I will act according to my orders. Even if that means resorting to force. I'm transferring you the coordinates of our territory. If you decide to invade our borders, you will regret it."

Archer threw T'Pol a questioning look.

"At least three additional days," she said, staring at her screen. "Probably more, since we cannot keep up warp 4.8 for a longer period of time."

Archer turned back to the woman on the screen. "Listen, we'd lose too much time. My officers only have limited resources in their shuttle. They can't survive for a longer period of time. Is there a way of contacting your High Council and discussing this?"

"The High Council does not engage in discussions with outworlders. Our rules are clear and strict. No strangers may violate the borders of our territory. And anyway, Captain, either your men are long dead, or they have stranded on a planet where they can survive longer than only a few days."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Archer narrowed his eyes at her.

"The anomaly leads directly into an asteroid field which is far too dense even for a small craft to navigate between the asteroids. I assume your officers crashed the minute they left the anomaly. It takes very capable pilots to survive more than a few seconds in that field. If the shuttle isn't equipped with very solid hull plating or a force field, you can be certain it has been badly damaged. If your officers are really good, they may have managed to land somewhere. There is a solar system with several habitable planets nearby. But as I said, it is a very small possibility."

Archer felt anger build in his stomach the longer he had to listen to that arrogant voice. If what she said was true, then it was even more important they found Trip and Malcolm as soon as possible. With an effort, he tried for his voice to sound level as he answered.

"Captain K'Tokh, maybe you see another possibility we ..."

"Stay out of our territory, Captain. That is the only possibility I see."

"Captain." The quiet voice coming from the tactical station made Archer indicate Hoshi to cut the connection for a moment. He turned around.

"The Merakian vessel is capable of warp 7," Reed's substitute, Ensign Faulkner, reported. "Maybe they would be willing to search for Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed. I don't have to tell you they could do so a lot faster than we."

"Yes, and not least because they have the advantage of being allowed to cross their territory," Archer grumbled. "Thanks, Ensign." He nodded at Hoshi.

"Captain K'Tokh, we are willing to stay out of your territory if you are willing to help us look for our men. With warp 7 that shouldn't be a ..."

"I'm sorry, Captain, but we can't do that."

Archer took a deep breath. He hated being cut off in mid-sentence all the time. And he didn't really believe that she was actually regretting her inability to help them. But for the benefit of Trip and Malcolm he had to try again.

"Why not, Captain? Aren't your people interested in establishing relations with other cult..."

"I said no, Captain. My people are not interested in any cultural exchange whatsoever. We are only interested in protecting our borders. I refuse to discuss this any further. I'm warning you, Captain Archer. We are not the only ship in the vicinity. If you try to violate our borders, we will blast you to pieces. You should be concerned about the safety of the rest of your crew. As I said, your men are long dead. Better write them off. Now resume your course and stay away from Merak."

The screen transformed and again showed the image of the alien ship who was hovering dangerously close.

Archer turned to the tactical station. "Write them off," he muttered. "You'd like that." He took a deep breath. "What does the weapon scan show, Ensign?"

"Phasers and photon torpedoes. Their fire power is about equal to ours," Faulkner reported. "We won't be able to get through a fight undamaged, and if it's true that they have more ships the odds are not in our favor, sir."

"Do you scan other ships in the vicinity?"

"Not right now, Captain. But that doesn't really mean anything; they could be here any time at warp 7."

Lips pressed together, Archer stared at the ship which was still blocking their way.

"Sir, they're loading weapons."

"I like that woman," Archer said. "Such a warm-hearted person."

He just had to say something to vent his frustration. Hoshi allowed herself a hesitant smile, but T'Pol threw him an uncomprehending glance.

"Set a course around their territory and go to warp," he told Travis. "For now," he added. "I'm in my ready room."

* * *

 

The captain was furious. Who did this Captain K'Tokh think she was, treating him in such a condescending way? He felt the urge to simply barge in there with their phasers blasting, and fight their way through that territory. A delay of three days. Which could make the difference between life and death for Trip and Malcolm. Assuming, of course, they were still alive. A hard lump formed in Jon's chest at the thought. How many hits by asteroids could the shuttle withstand? Both Trip and Malcolm were good pilots, but of course they weren't able to work miracles. K'Tokh's description of the asteroid field didn't sound good. Not at all.

The door signal sounded, and T'Pol entered. "Am I disturbing you, Captain?"

"Not at all. Please, sit down."

T'Pol slightly bowed her head, but remained standing, clasping her hands behind her back. "You are not considering crossing the Merakian territory, are you, Captain?"

Archer looked up. How would she know? He realized that in the meantime T'Pol had come to know him very well, and was able to pick up his moods even though she claimed to be unfamiliar with emotions. Of course the possibility of fighting his way through was still very present in his mind.

"Captain. Such a course of action would be both foolish and destined to fail."

Thanks very much, T'Pol, for never hesitating to speak your mind. But to be honest, I'm fed up with people telling me what to do. Archer bit his lip to keep himself from voicing his thoughts aloud.

He got up. "So what are you suggesting?" he asked a lot calmer than he felt.

"We have very limited options, Captain. Flying around the Merakian territory seems the logical thing to do."

"Maybe they were bluffing. Maybe they are the only ship out here."

"I see no reason why K'Tokh would lie to us, Captain. But even if she did, the Merakian ships are capable of flying warp 7. They could be here within a matter of minutes."

"Maybe the other captains are a little more cooperative, and willing to negotiate."

"Possible. But not very probable. Do you really intend to risk Enterprise's safety on such a small, unlikely possibility?"

"No, T'Pol, of course not. But what do you want me to do? Dawdle about when Trip and Malcolm need our help?"

"I do not think we are dawdling about, Captain," T'Pol stated, ignoring Archer's weary sigh. "Fact is that we cannot cross the Merakian territory without risking a fight. And getting involved in a fight means that Enterprise will suffer damage. Even in the very unlikely case that we win, we will not be able to get through a space battle undamaged. And damage will slow us down. If we are forced to cross the alien territory at warp 2, we will not have gained any advantage. Not to speak of the fact that we will be more vulnerable to further attacks."

"I know, I know," Archer admitted, if a little reluctantly. "I won't argue your logic. Still, I think another attempt at negotiation won't hurt. Maybe there's something we can offer them, something that would make them less reluctant to let us cross their borders."

"What are you thinking of, Captain?"

"No idea. Antimatter, spare parts, the recipe for pecan pie for all I care. Tell Hoshi to try again."

T'Pol informed Hoshi about the captain's orders, without mentioning the pecan pie, of course. Then she turned back to the captain, giving him a strange look. "I am sure Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed are well, Captain."

Jon threw her an astonished look. That was an unusual statement for the vulcan Subcommander.

"I'm not so sure, considering what K'Tokh told us about that asteroid field. Their chances of survival are minimal, T'Pol."

"You are worried about the commander," T'Pol stated calmly.

"And Lieutenant Reed."

"Of course. But you are experiencing regret at having sent the commander on this mission."

"It was a mistake. In his current condition, Trip is not fit for full duties."

"Doctor Phlox deemed it an acceptable risk."

"Because none of us knew what was going to happen."

"Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed are capable officers, Captain. I am certain they are in control of their situation."

"Yes, but Lieutenant Reed is in a healthy physical condition. Which cannot be said of Trip."

"I do not think Commander Tucker would like anyone to make concessions to his current handicap, Captain. Besides, I am sure the commander will find ways to compensate for his physical weakness. Mr. Tucker is a natural survivor, and he will handle this situation at the best of his abilities."

"I never knew you thought that highly of Trip."

"I have learned to appreciate Commander Tucker's talents. The way he handles his handicap deserves my respect."

"Well, to be honest, I don't think he did that great the last few days."

"It is not unusual for humans to experience frustration at times like this. Commander Tucker is no exception to the rule. It is understandable that he experiences anxiety concerning his future life."

"What do you mean?"

"This relapse may not be the only one."

Jon looked at T'Pol. The vulcan woman never ceased to surprise him - her outward demeanor was as cool as a frozen lake, but beneath the surface she hid a far more compassionate mind than anyone would have thought at first glance.

"Trip's afraid he'll suffer a relapse whenever he exhausts himself, and that he'll be dependent on a wheelchair for the rest of his life. The idea really gets him down."

"The possibility of that happening cannot be denied."

"Yes, I know." Jon examined his hands. "I wish I could help him, T'Pol, but I don't know what to do."

"You are doing your best, Captain. Our first and foremost priority is now to find the commander and the lieutenant."

The intercom buzzed. "Sato to Captain Archer."

Jon answered. "Yes, Hoshi? Get anywhere?"

"I'm afraid not, Captain. Captain K'Tokh didn't even answer our first hails, and then she was rather..." Hoshi hesitated. "Rude," she said then. "They are not interested in any negotiations whatsoever."

Ensign Faulkner joined the conversation. "They are still following us, Captain, and have their weapons locked on our engines. Do you want me to..."

"No, Ensign. We can't risk another provocation. Hoshi, tell K'Tokh we'll avoid their territory, and that she can stop breathing down our necks. If she doesn't want to help us, then I see no reason for her to stay."

"I'll tell her, sir," Hoshi said.

T'Pol stepped up next to Archer. "Maybe you'll be able to find a more diplomatic phrasing, Ensign," she said, throwing Archer an inscrutable look.


	11. Chapter 11

Trip felt strange. His whole body was numb. Not only wasn't he able to move a muscle, he couldn't even feel his body. Things seemed to have gotten worse while he had slept, and Trip, feeling strangely detached from his body, involuntarily opened his eyes to check whether he still had his arms and legs at all. Surprised, he realized that Malcolm had left his former sleeping place and now lay beside him on the floor. His face was ashen and his breathing shallow and erratic. A jolt went through Trip's motionless body. Malcolm was dying. But that couldn't be; he just couldn't be dying.

"Malcolm," Trip exclaimed. "Malcolm, wake up!"

Slowly, Malcolm lifted his eye lids. "I'm sorry, Trip," he whispered barely audibly. "But I can't take any more of this."

"No, Malcolm," Trip yelled. "Stay with me! C'mon, you have to hang on! Don't give up. Malcolm!"

Trip felt tears welling from his eyes and running down his cheeks. He wanted to shake Malcolm, bring him back to life somehow, but he was pinned down on the floor with no chance to do anything.

"Hang on for me, Trip." He could barely understand Malcolm's whisper. "The captain will come and get you. Tell him it was an honor to..."

"No, Malcolm, NO!"

Malcolm's breathing became shallower and faint, his eyes closing in slow motion. Fiercely, Trip fought against his motionless body. He wanted to at least hold Malcolm in his arms. His friend was dying and he lay here like a lifeless stone. Trip started to cry. "Don't leave me, Malcolm. Don't give up. Stay with me. Please!"

Malcolm drew a last shaky breath. His chest rose and fell one last time and with a small moan, he slowly let out his dying breath. Then his breathing stopped and his face went pale and ashen. He was dead. Trip felt the pain cut through his heart like a knife, and something deep within his soul broke apart. Then he began to scream.

"Trip!" A worried voice came from far away, but he could barely hear it. "Trip!" The voice grew louder and more insistent, but it couldn't drown out the sound of his own crying. "Trip! What's the matter? Wake up!"

Trip's eyes flew open. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs and his breath came in gasps. A face bent down over him. Malcolm's face.

"You're not dead?" Trip whispered, still out of breath.

"No, I'm not." Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "Am I supposed to be?" He smiled. "You scared me, screaming like that. Was it a nightmare?"

"Yeah. I dreamed that you were dead." Trip cleared his throat that felt raw and hoarse, his eyes filling with tears. Tears of pure relief. It had been a dream. Only a dream. Malcolm was still alive. He rubbed his hands over his face. "It was horrible." Trip frowned when he saw a grin tug at Malcolm's lips. "What's the big joke, Mal? I dream you're dyin' and you think it's funny?"

"Just look what you're doing."

Trip stared at his hands. Still caught in the aftermath of his dream, he hadn't even realized how he had run them over his face. They moved. He was able to feel them. He felt his whole body. His worsened condition had been a dream as well.

"Dammit, Malcolm." Trip let out a shaking breath. "I can move." He flexed his shoulders and tested if he could move his upper body. "Except for my legs, of course", he added. "Would've been askin' too much, I guess." Trip tried to feel his body, examining every muscle. Despite the horrible nightmare he felt rested. Sort of. His arms and legs felt relaxed. The cut in his calf still was throbbing, though, as well as the sunburn on his arms, but the cramps had stopped. His thirst, however, seemed to have worsened. He would have given anything for a sip of water. His tongue was swollen and seemed to be glued to the roof of his mouth. His lips were cracked and dry and his blistered mouth felt like it was made of sandpaper. A single mouthful of water would have felt like paradise. But that wasn't important now. Malcolm was still alive and he could move again, so there was still hope.

"How do you feel?" Malcolm asked.

Trip sighed. The odds were still against them. He didn't have the slightest idea how he was even going to get into a sitting position, let alone find the strength to repair the thrusters. He could move his body and his arms, but only slowly and awkwardly. Every movement hurt. "I'm okay," he said, but Malcolm wasn't going to be fooled.

"Yes, I can see that." The lieutenant grimaced. "Seems to be almost as bad as it was after your first relapse." He watched Trip's futile efforts to turn onto his side, then stood up and offered him his arm for support. "Here, now try again."

With Malcolm's help Trip finally managed to sit up. Panting, he leaned against the wall.

"You're not planning to go outside and repair the thrusters in this condition?" Malcolm frowned skeptically.

"I have to try, at least. But I need your help, Malcolm."

"Of course. But how am I going to help you?"

"You'll have to carry me on your shoulders. Not just on your back, that wouldn't be enough to reach the thrusters."

"This isn't going to work, Trip. I can't use my hands to keep you steady. And I'm sorry to say this, but you're too weak to keep your balance without someone holding on to you."

"I can lean against the bulkheads."

"And how you're going to do repair work like this?"

"I'll manage. Could you help me get my tools?"

"Take it easy, Trip." Malcolm sat down beside his friend. "Right now, it's too hot out there to do anything." He leaned forward to look out the broken window. "I believe the second sun is going to set in about an hour. We'll still have two hours of daylight left, and the heat will be much more bearable."

"But we need to leave here as soon as possible."

"I agree, but working under these conditions is going to be of little use. What do you suppose how far we are going to get in this burning heat? One of us would collapse within the first ten minutes. We can't fly during the night, anyway, it's so dark you wouldn't be able to see anything without the sensors. Or did you manage to repair them?"

"Short distance sensors," Trip nodded.

"So they're back in working order?"

"Workin' order might be somewhat exaggerated." Trip sighed deeply. "We'll be better off usin' our eyes."

Malcolm smiled understandingly. "Tell you what, Trip. Try to get some more rest, and when the sun has set, we'll try to repair these bloody thrusters, then get some sleep and get away from this place at the first light of dawn."

"Sounds good."

"Now try to sleep. Do you want to lie down again?"

Trip shook his head. "My joints already ache from lyin' on my back all the time. I'm quite comfortable here. Could you push the medkit over here?"

"Why?"

"I want to refill the hypo. Just bein' cautious. If necessary you can maybe find a way to inject yourself with the stuff."

"If necessary?" Malcolm frowned at the implication of Trip's words. "Do you think your condition will worsen again while you're sleeping?"

"You never know." Trip grinned lopsidedly. "To be frank, I don't really trust my body anymore. I just want to play safe."

Using his foot, Malcolm pushed the medkit to where Trip could reach it and watched his friend load the hypo with the last dose of painkiller. "Perhaps you should use it yourself?" he suggested.

Trip shook his head. "The cramps have stopped, and you need it more than I do. Tell me when the effect of the last dose is startin' to wear off."

Malcolm nodded, sitting down on the floor beside Trip.

"You should lie down on one of the benches," Trip suggested, but Malcolm shook his head.

"That's alright."

"Thank you." Trip was relieved to have Malcolm at his side during his sleep. He swallowed. "I saw you die, Mal. Don't do that to me again, okay?"

Malcolm smiled. "It's okay, Trip. We'll get out of this, I promise. Do you want to lean on my shoulder?"

Trip nodded wearily, then he leaned his head against Malcolm's shoulder and in an instant he was fast asleep.

* * *

 

"D'you know how this feels, Malcolm?"

"Like we were two little boys who are desperately trying to reach the shelf with the candies?" Malcolm suggested.

"Exactly. And I feel damn stupid."

"Same here. I'm just glad the obnoxious guy with the camera isn't anywhere around."

Trip chuckled. "No need to get personal."

"I wouldn't. Still, I'm glad no one's taking pictures."

Still chuckling, Trip concentrated on his task. His place on top of Malcolm's shoulders wasn't the best position to keep his balance, although Malcolm had rested his arms on his thighs to stabilize his stance. But Trip couldn't use his legs to keep himself steady and had to feel his way along the bulkheads, always trying not to make Malcolm lose his balance, since the lieutenant had no way of using his hands to hold on to the shuttle. Their stance was anything but stable, and both of them were praying that the other wouldn't suddenly lose his balance.

For the thousandth time, Trip cursed his lifeless legs. It had taken him twenty minutes to climb onto Malcolm's shoulders. The lieutenant had squatted in the sand in front of the hatch, and it wouldn't have been a problem if Malcolm had been able to take a hold on Trip's legs. Like this, however, they'd kept sliding from Malcolm's shoulders, and it took the two men a long time until Malcolm managed to get to his feet.

They had planned it very carefully, realizing they only had one try. If Trip suddenly noticed he had forgotten a tool, he wouldn't have a chance to get it out of the shuttle. As a measure of precaution, he had tied thin cords to all his tools with a loop at the end to fasten them around his wrists. Bending down to pick up a dropped tool was going to be equally impossible.

Malcolm had advised Trip to protect his hands with some rags. The bulkheads were heated up by the suns and still radiated an enormous heat, although the second sun had set half an hour ago. When he felt the bulkheads' heat, Trip was glad for the advice. On top of everything else, he didn't need to burn his hands when he touched the hot metal.

Step by step, they made their way to the thrusters. Leaning against the bulkhead with his shoulder, Trip took a special scanner out of his toolkit that was hanging around his neck.

"And?" Malcolm asked from below.

Trip looked at the sensors. "Better than I'd expected."

"You're not saying the odds are actually in our favor for a change?"

"Maybe, but the repairs could still take one or two hours. Can you hang on for so long?"

"As long as it takes."

"I'll try to get it done as fast as I can."

Trip soon realized that it wasn't going to be so easy. His own body prevented him from working efficiently. He had to fight for his balance all the time, had to keep himself from falling which would have caused Malcolm to stumble as well. The repairs weren't going as smoothly as he would have liked. His fingers were swollen from the heat and he could barely move them after a while. His arms and hands refused to obey the orders his brain gave them, and he had to force every single movement. His joints ached and his hand-eye coordination failed him more than once, the tools slipping from his hands. He cursed fiercely when once again the plasma torch fell from his hand, banging at the bulkhead as it swung on the cord he had fastened around his wrist. Thank God he had remembered to secure the tools before he started.

"You alright?" Malcolm asked.

"I'm fine," Trip lied. He had no idea how much longer he was going to be able to keep this up. One of the relays sent sparks flying and he winced when the electric shock sent a jolt through his hand. Malcolm reacted quickly, taking a compensating step forward that prevented him from losing his balance. Trip's reflexes were slowing down, and his fingers had grown numb. His back was aching from the straining position and he felt so exhausted and tired that he was barely able to keep his eyes open. How was he supposed to repair the damaged conduits in this condition? Not to mention adjust the thrusters. In silent desperation, he looked at the mess of melted EPS-conduits and destroyed circuits. Pull yourself together, he admonished himself. He had to do it now, there wouldn't be a second chance. He could only hope that there were enough spare parts to finish the repairs.

"Everythin' okay down there?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Malcolm answered, but his voice sounded rather strained.

"You're lyin'," Trip told him while he pulled a circuit board out of the engine to test it.

"So what? I'm not the only one." Malcolm knew perfectly well about Trip's condition. He could feel the trembling that was taking hold of his friend's muscles and he pleaded silently that Trip wouldn't have to pay a price as high as last time for exhausting himself in such a way. The exertion of keeping his balance on Malcolm's shoulders was enough to weaken his condition. What was even more, Malcolm didn't know how long he himself would be able to carry Trip's weight. Carefully and without moving his upper body he shifted his weight to the other leg and leaned heavily against the bulkhead. The warmth he could feel through his clothes added to his already heightened body temperature. Sweat ran from his forehead into his eyes, but he couldn't wipe it off without letting go of Trip's legs at the same time. Malcolm knew he was running a fever. His head was pounding and he was beginning to feel dizzy. He firmly fixed a spot in the sand and concentrated on standing still, straightening his knees so they wouldn't buckle under him. No way was he going to give up. He had promised Trip he was going to hang on as long as it took and he intended to keep his promise. He tried to ignore the weight on his shoulders that seemed to get heavier every minute and shut out every conscious thought, staring at the spot in the sand until his eyes began to water. He didn't think of the pain, he didn't think of how much time had passed. He didn't think at all, just staring down at the sand. A soft rumble from above finally startled him out of his trance.

"Sounds like you're hungry, Commander," he teased, and all of a sudden his senses were completely clear again.

"A little. It's been a while since I had somethin' to eat."

"Me too," Malcolm agreed. "But I don't think I'd be able to get anything down even if we still had food." His sore throat made it almost impossible to swallow, and Malcolm knew that Trip was feeling the same.

"Neither could I," Trip answered. "But I don't think I can convince my stomach." He groaned. "Are you hangin' on down there?"

"Like I said, as long as it takes."

"It won't take much longer now. Fifteen minutes, maybe."

"Can you fix the thrusters?"

"Yeah, I think so." Trip used the bulkhead for support and took a deep breath. He felt queasy and dizzy. The conduits blurred, and there were dark spots dancing before his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt himself sway at the same time.

"You need a break, Trip." Malcolm's voice came from very far away, and Trip felt his friend shift his position to help him keep his balance.

"No, Malcolm," he sighed. "I'll never be able to finish this if I stop now. It's only fifteen more minutes, anyway."

How long could a quarter of an hour be? The idea of his body failing him now when he was almost done was more than frustrating. In the meantime every single movement sent a stinging pain through his muscles, and his back burned like fire. The dizzy spells had worsened, and he felt like he was going to melt from the heat any moment. On top of everything else it was getting darker every minute and he could hardly see what he was doing. He had to hurry. Come on, he urged himself, only a few more adjustments and you're done.

Malcolm swayed under him and Trip once again lost his micro spanner which banged against his elbow, hard. He didn't even have the breath left to utter another curse. But he knew Malcolm was also on the verge of collapsing. He'd been standing out here for more than two hours, hardly moving, weakened by the fever and pain while the weight on his shoulders added to his discomfort.

"Only one more relay, Malcolm, I'll be done in a minute." Trip let out a breath of relief. "We did it, Malcolm. We're done."

"Now all we have to do is get back inside." Malcolm's voice sounded hoarse and strained.

"Yes." Trip stowed away the micro spanner. "You'll manage?"

"Of course. You ready?"

"Yeah." Trip felt his way back along the bulkheads that were still warm but could be touched without any protection.

They had managed only a few steps when Malcolm stumbled and swayed. Trip lost his balance, slipped sideways and fell face-first into the sand, causing the lieutenant to lose his balance as well. Malcolm raised his hands so he wouldn't instinctively use them to stop his fall. "Trip," he cried out when he saw his friend slam into the sand.

Trip raised his head to see Malcolm drop to his knees, sway and land on his side in the sand. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Malcolm assured him.

"Me too." Trip swallowed. "I'm sorry, Malcolm."

"Why? It was my fault. I stumbled."

"And I lost my balance."

"Only because I was swaying."

Trip forced a smile. "Give it a rest, Mal. If we try really hard, I'm sure we can find out which one of us is to blame for the fact that this damned planet consists of nothin' but one giant sandbox. You think you'll manage to get into the shuttle?"

Awkwardly, Malcolm got to his feet, still swaying a bit. "Yes, I think so. And you?"

Trip shook his head. It seemed impossible to him to push his aching body any further. All his strength had left him; his arms and legs had started to tremble again and he was panting, the world seeming to swirl around him.

"But you can move, can't you?" Malcolm asked, alarmed.

"Yes, I can, but I haven't got the strength to do so anymore."

"Can you get a hold on me?" Malcolm bent down over Trip and extended his arms so Trip could get a hold on them.

Trip squeezed his eyes shut to get rid of the blurry haze that clouded his vision. With much effort, he raised his arms over his head and took a hold on Malcolm's forearms.

Slowly, Malcolm dragged Trip over to the shuttle's hatch. Time and again, Trip's hands lost their grip and fell limply into the sand, but Malcolm waited patiently for his friend to take a hold of his arms again so he could pull him further along.

When they had finally arrived at the hatch, Trip gathered all that was left of his energy and managed to pull himself into the shuttle.

"I'll help you lie down on one of the benches," Malcolm offered. "You need get some rest."

Trip shook his head. "I'm okay down here, Mal."

"No, you're not. You need to rest to regain your strength." Malcolm bent over him. "Come on, wrap your hands around my neck."

Trip followed Malcolm's order and allowed him to hoist him up onto the bench. With a last great effort, Trip pulled his legs up onto the bunk and lay down with a deep sigh.

Malcolm sat down on the other bench and leaned his head against the bulkhead, not even bothering to cover his yawn. They had made it. Trip had made it, although Malcolm wished he could give him some water. A parched body wasn't going to help his condition. Well, at least now they would be able to leave this sandy place at the first sign of dawn. There had to be water somewhere on this planet. He looked at Trip who was staring at the ceiling.

"What's the matter?"

"What d'you mean?"

"You should get some sleep."

Trip shrugged. "I can't."

"Of course you can," Malcolm admonished. "You're completely exhausted. I can see from here that you can barely keep your eyes open. What's wrong, Trip?"

For a long time there was no answer, but then Trip whispered. "I'm scared, Malcolm."

"Scared?"

"Yeah. It always happened while I was sleepin'. Or unconscious."

Malcolm began to understand. Trip feared another relapse when he went to sleep now after having exhausted his body in such a way. The commander might well have a point, Malcolm thought, remembering all the exertions Trip had put himself through during the last few days.

"But sometimes your condition has also stabilized while you slept," he tried to reassure his friend. "You need to get some sleep, Trip. You can't go on like this."

"And what if I wake up and can't move anymore?"

"Then we'll work something out. Don't worry, Trip. Just try to get some sleep."

Trip wasn't convinced, but knew that Malcolm was right. If he didn't go to sleep soon he would simply lose consciousness. He could already feel a black haze touching the edge of his vision. The dizziness was becoming worse and he was relieved that he didn't need to fight for his balance on Malcolm's shoulders any longer, but lay comfortably on this bench and was able to relax. Malcolm was right. In his current condition there was nothing he could do but get some sleep.

"You'll wake me up at dawn?"

"Sure." Malcolm watched Trip close his eyes and shift to find a more comfortable position. The sun wasn't going to rise for another five hours; five hours in which they could both try to regain some of their strength. Malcolm lay down as well, idly wondering where they would be this time tomorrow. Someplace safe, maybe, or still out here, if Trip's repairs proved to be useless, after all. To be honest, he didn't really care. At the moment, Malcolm was too exhausted to worry about anything.


	12. Chapter 12

Trip woke up to the first light of dawn coming through the shattered window and the still open hatch. He yawned and blinked to get rid of the tiredness. He was scared to try and move his arms. What if he couldn't? He wouldn't be surprised if his muscles refused to move. At least they weren't trembling, which was always a good sign. Trip moved his fingers, his hands, then his arms and finally let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you," he muttered to no one in particular and sat up. It took him some effort, but he was feeling less weak than he had been the evening before.

"Malcolm?" he called to the other bench. "Hey, Lieutenant, you were supposed to wake me."

He got no answer. Trip frowned. It was strange for Malcolm not to react; usually the lieutenant stayed alert even in his sleep.

Trip shoved his legs over the side of the bunk and slid to the floor. Ignoring the painful sting his sunburnt arms gave him, he pulled himself over to the bunk where Malcolm lay sleeping. When he sat up, he heard Malcolm mumble indistinctly in his sleep. Reed's face was hot and when Trip lay a hand on his forehead Malcolm turned his head to one side, letting out a small moan.

Trip bit his lips. Malcolm's fever was running dangerously high as his body tried to fight the infection in his hands.

Trip leaned forward so he could reach the medkit. He could inject Malcolm with some more of the fever reducer, but that wasn't going to take care of the problem. Malcolm needed a doctor, and soon, or the infection was going to kill him. Deeply worried, Trip took a closer look at Malcolm's hands. He could smell the gangrene that was festering in the dying tissue. Trip supposed it was too late even for Phlox to save these hands. He knew that there was going to be a time when he would be able to walk again but what would Malcolm do if Phlox had to amputate both his hands? It was an unnerving image; Malcolm Reed without his hands, always having to rely on other people's help.

Checking the dirty bandages, Trip swallowed dryly. He knew he had to try and change them. If they were full of sand and dirt they would cause more damage than anything else. Knowing this was going to be a difficult task, Trip opened the medkit and injected Malcolm with the fever reducer and the last dose of antibiotics that was in the medkit, then unwrapped the bandage on Malcolm's right hand. As he had expected, it stuck to the weeping wound, and it seemed impossible to get it off without any water to soak it first. Trip was scared to just peel off the bandage. Who knew what else he would be peeling off if he did. He licked his lips and took a deep breath. He had started this, and now he had to bring it to an end. Millimeter by millimeter he peeled off the bandage, thanking the universe that Malcolm was unconscious. The palm and some fingers had started to bleed, but Trip didn't know whether this was a good sign or not. At least some parts of Malcolm's hands still seemed to be supplied with blood. Trip got sick from the smell and when finally the gangrenous hand lay before him his stomach lurched, and Trip was glad it was empty. "Get a grip," he murmured. "This is only Malcolm's hand." But this rotting black claw no longer looked like anything that had once belonged to a human body. If he could only help Malcolm somehow. Trip rummaged through the medkit, but except for bandages he couldn't find anything useful. He couldn't even remove the sand that had seeped into the wounds. Carefully, he dabbed the pus off as well as he could, fighting the urge to vomit as he did so. When finally the hand was covered with a clean bandage once again, Trip closed his eyes for a moment and sighed deeply. But there was still the other hand left.

When Trip removed the bandage on the left hand, Malcolm opened his eyes and groaned. "What are you doing?" he asked and inhaled sharply.

"Bandagin' your hands. I'm sorry I woke you up. Does it hurt very badly?"

Malcolm looked at his hand where the last layer of the bandage was still attached. He gave no answer but Trip noticed that his breathing was going rather shallow.

"I have to finish this now," he said regretfully. "But I can inject you with another painkiller if you like."

"It's the last one, isn't it?"

"Yep."

"The last dose is still working a little. I just want it when I really need it. Who knows how long we're going to be stuck here."

"But this will be very painful."

"I'll be fine," Malcolm said stubbornly, gritting his teeth when Trip peeled off the bandage. Tears sprang from his eyes but no sound came over his lips.

"Don't be so damn brave, Mal," Trip admonished him. "I'm sure this hurts like hell."

Malcolm didn't answer, silently watching what Trip was doing. When finally his bare hand lay before him, he turned his head to one side. He had known it was bad but this sight was nauseating. "Sorry, Trip," he whispered, his voice full of pain.

Surprised, Trip looked up. "Sorry? What for?"

"You having to see this."

"That's okay, Mal." Trip sighed. The sight of the hand wasn't as bad as the smell, pus and gangrene mixing together in a putrid stench. But breathing shallowly he was able to control the nausea. No way would he vomit in front of Malcolm. Very carefully, he wrapped the hand into a new bandage.

"What do you think? They're a lost cause, aren't they?" Malcolm asked in a soft voice while staring at the wall.

"Well, Phlox's worked miracles before." Trip hoped his voice wouldn't betray him. He was certain that not even Phlox could save these hands. Malcolm would lose them, that was for sure. When he raised his head, he noticed the other man looking at him. For a moment their eyes locked, and Trip knew his friend was seeing right through him. Malcolm knew very well about his condition.

"Just hang on, Malcolm. Lie down and try to get some more sleep. I'll bring us away from here before the suns rise and heat up the place once again."

Malcolm was still looking down at his hands and the expression in his eyes ripped right into Trip's heart. He wanted to say something comforting but he couldn't think of anything. What was he supposed to say? That Phlox would be able to help Malcolm? Phlox wasn't here, and he knew he couldn't fool his friend.

Malcolm took a deep breath, pushing the dark thoughts aside. "I'll help you."

Before he could get up, however, Trip gently pushed him back down. "Malcolm, you're runnin' a fever. You need to rest. I'll be fine."

Malcolm didn't seem convinced, but lay back down obediently, muttering something inaudible while his eyes were already beginning to close. Relieved, Trip watched him go to sleep, then he pulled himself over to the hatch, closed it and fastened the rope. When that was done, he continued to the helm console and pulled himself into the chair. Nervously, he regarded the helm. If the jury-rigged conduits didn't work, then their only chance to get away from here was lost.

"Okay, let's go." Trip involuntarily held his breath when he started the engines. At first, nothing happened and Trip felt panic rise in his sore throat. Suddenly, however, the shuttle jerked and he could hear the banging stutter of the thrusters coming to live.

Trip let out a long sigh of relief when the stutter changed into an unsteady humming. He prayed that the helm was going to react as well.

Slowly, the shuttle lifted off, but it was difficult to steer, the damaged circuits slowing down the helm's reaction. "C'mon on," Trip muttered impatiently as the shuttle slowly gained some height. It would be a long and hard flight without the computer, without stabilizers, with a broken wing and a broken front window through which the sand was blowing right in Trip's face. Sighing, Trip dismissed these thoughts and reached out to increase the shuttle's speed.

* * *

 

Malcolm opened his eyes, realizing a moment later that it was the shuttle's rocking and jerking that had woken him up. Instinctively, he felt the urge to take hold of something, but the searing pain in his hands reminded him that this wouldn't be a very wise move. Briefly, he wondered what was causing the rocking motion.

Shaking off the dizziness, Malcolm strained his ears and finally recognized the humming of the engines. They were running far from smoothly, but they were working. Awkwardly, Malcolm rolled over and got up, then slowly made his way over to the helm.

Trip turned around and smiled when Malcolm sat down beside him. "How d'you feel?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"I'm fine," Malcolm answered softly. His own throat was so sore he could only croak.

"Of course you are. Why do I even bother to ask?" Trip cleared his throat. He could see how well Malcolm was. The bandages around his hands had turned once more a dirty yellow, interrupted here and there by dark red stains. Due to the medication, his heightened temperature had returned to a more normal level, but his eyes were still overly bright and feverish. His stubbly cheeks were haggard, his lips cracked and swollen and the lack of water was also beginning to show. Trip knew he didn't look a lot better himself. In the meantime, he was also running a fever, but so far it wasn't affecting his ability to concentrate.

"Where are we heading to?" Malcolm asked, leaning forward to look out the window.

"Wish I knew. I'm tryin' to get us away from the second sun."

"A logical decision," Malcolm agreed. "Its arc is shallower than that of the first sun. What do you think? Will it disappear behind the horizon if we go far enough?"

"Perhaps." Trip grinned lopsidedly, minding his cracked lips. "Wish T'Pol could've heard you say that I'm actually bein' logical."

"I'll tell her personally. As soon as you bring us safely home to Enterprise." Malcolm held a protecting arm in front of his face. His place at the open window was very uncomfortable. The cooling wind was very welcome, but the stinging grains of sand weren't. Trip tried to protect his eyes by shielding them with the brim of his cap, but Malcolm could see that it wasn't of much use.

"How long since we left?" he wanted to know.

"Nearly an hour."

"And how long until we have to land again?"

"Assumin' the engines don't fail, antimatter's gonna run short in about six or seven hours. Fact is, our next landin' will be the last one. I can't start the engines a second time, so we'd better choose our next landin' site very carefully."

"What do you suggest if we come across an inhabited area?"

Trip shrugged. "Keepin' a low profile and investigatin' the place."

"Do you really think either of us is in the condition to do any investigating?"

Trip looked at his friend, realizing that Malcolm was right. He didn't even know if he was up to another few hours of struggling with a reluctant helm. He was completely exhausted, the muscles in his arms aching from the strain of compensating for the broken wing that was constantly interfering with the navigation controls. A single moment of inattentiveness, and they were going to go down in a sudden and fatal crash.

Looking over to Malcolm, he knew his friend was fighting a battle of his own, a battle against fever and infection, and if he didn't get medical help very soon, he was going to lose it. But what if the civilization they were hoping to find was a pre-warp culture? What if this planet's inhabitants didn't even know of the existence of alien lifeforms? What if they reacted hostile to the arrival of two strangers on their world? Before they could even think about asking for help, they needed to find out if they were welcome in this place. But who was going to be able to do so? He with his paralyzed legs? Or Malcolm, feverish and hardly able to think straight?

Trip sighed. "First we have to try and reach someplace where we can stay for a while. We'll see from there. How're your hands?"

"They're okay."

"I'm sure the painkiller has worn off by now." As a measure of precaution, Trip had left the hypospray with the last dose of painkiller on the helm console, which turned out to be a wise move, since he was able to inject Malcolm with one hand without losing his hold of the control stick.

Malcolm exhaled in relief when he felt the painkiller flow through his veins and numb his nerves. He never would have admitted that the stinging and burning in his hands had become almost unbearable.

"Can I help you?" he wanted to know when the pain had been reduced to a numb throbbing. "I could take the control stick between my forearms."

"It wouldn't work, Malcolm." Trip shook his head in regret. "The helm's reactin' way too slow to do that."

"But you can't fly the shuttle for eight hours without a break, not in this condition."

"I'm hopin' it won't take that long." Trip looked up from the scanners and squinted as he looked out the window. There was still only sand to be seen, stretching into all directions, and definitely no indications that they were approaching a civilized area. Or at least an area that held something different than sand. Trip didn't know what he was going to do when the antimatter ran short and they still were out here in the desert. If that happened, the only option they had left was waiting for a miracle to happen.

"Go and lie back down," he advised Malcolm. "It doesn't make any sense to sit up here and torture yourself."

"I won't leave you alone. Maybe I can find something I can do."

As he heard Malcolm's bitter tone of voice, Trip felt sorry for his friend. Malcolm was always reluctant to let others take over. He wanted to contribute to their rescue and, being unable to do something, he felt useless. A feeling Trip had often experienced himself during the last few days.

"I know how you're feelin', Malcolm," he said gently. "But you can't help me right now. Try to rest and get some of your energy back. You'll need it later on."

Malcolm nodded resignedly and got up, swaying slightly as he did so. He knew Trip was right.

Trip glanced over his shoulder when Malcolm lay down again, briefly wishing that he could do the same. He couldn't even think of getting some rest. Trying to ignore the searing pain in his back, he looked at the scanner to check their direction. They had been flying away from the second sun for more than an hour, but he had to wait for it to rise to be able to tell whether it was really shallowing down. At the moment he was glad that only the first sun was rising at the horizon. The temperature was still tolerable. His thirst, however, was becoming worse. It had been nearly a day since he'd last had something to drink and his tongue was swollen, his throat parched. Doesn't matter, he told himself, concentrating on keeping his eyes straight ahead. Ignoring the pain, he kept the shuttle on course, heading for an unknown destination.

* * *

 

Trip couldn't go on anymore. It was simply too much. He'd lost all sense of time, and even though the scanner told him plainly that they'd been flying across the desert for no more than six hours, to him it felt like an eternity. It was hard to tell which part of his body hurt the most. He felt like his spine was going to crack any minute, and the muscles in his stomach, aching from the constant tension, sent painful spasms through his body. The sand rubbing against his corneas left his eyes red and swollen, but in a strange way, Trip was even glad it did. If his eyes weren't burning that bad, he would probably not be able to keep them open anymore. On top of everything else there was the inflamed cut in his leg, which wouldn't stop hurting and throbbing. His exhaustion was so overwhelming he could hardly think straight anymore.

Trip knew he was running a fever. The lack of water was blurring his thoughts, and he'd already deviated twice from his programmed course because he'd thought he'd seen a lake in the distance. But at least he had always realized soon enough that he was hallucinating, and had brought the shuttle back to its former course. It was getting harder and harder concentrating, though. His worsening headache and the nausea caused by the lack of water weren't helping, either. Only sheer willpower kept him from collapsing, and by now he was working the controls without thinking about it, focusing on staying awake and enduring the pain. He gritted his teeth when another painful tremor ran through his muscles. He didn't need that now. They hadn't made it yet. He had to hold on. He had to stay awake. He had to ...

* * *

 

Malcolm immediately knew what had woken him up. Something was wrong. He felt waves of adrenaline rush through his body before he had even opened his eyes. When his other senses began to react, he realized that the shuttle was lurching, and tilting to one side. Suddenly there was another sharp bump, and Malcolm realized that the intact wing was dragging through the sand.

"Trip! What's up? We're far too deep!" With an effort, Malcolm got to his feet, fighting the dizzy spell that washed over him, and trying to stay on his feet while the shuttle was shaking and trembling.

Trip had collapsed on the helm controls. He was still holding the manual control stick, which had saved them from crashing, but he had lost control of the navigation.

"Trip!" Malcolm shouted, stumbling to the front part of the shuttle. Trip's eyes were blank, and he didn't seem to be aware of his surroundings. His arms were shaking, and his face was contorted.

"Trip!" Malcolm wished he would have been able to grab Trip's shoulder and give him a good shake. Instead he raised his foot, giving Trip's leg a not too gentle kick. Crying out in pain, Trip snapped out of his trance. Malcolm winced, and swore at himself for forgetting about Trip's leg injury. The fever seemed to be scrambling his thoughts. But at least the pain had brought Trip back to awareness. Blinking in disorientation, he squinted his eyes shut and let out a groan of pain, then pulled up the shuttle's nose again.

"What happened?" he croaked.

"You blacked out. Sorry I kicked you."

"I can't go on, Mal."

"Yes, Trip, you can. Just keep trying. It's not for long now."

It hurt Malcolm's very soul to see Trip like that. The engineer's eyes were red and puffy, his face, arms and clothes covered in grime and sand. He'd been sitting at the helm controls for hours, and Malcolm imagined his back must be hurting like hell.

"You look terrible," Malcolm stated, without trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

Trip grinned weakly. "Well, join the club."

"How long have we been flying?"

Trip threw a glance at the scanner. His vision was blurry, and it took a moment for him to make sense of the readings on the small display.

"Six hours and thirty-five minutes," he announced slowly.

"That long." Malcolm sighed. Squinting and shielding his eyes against the wind, he stared out the window. They were still over the desert, the hot air blurring the shapes of the landscape surrounding them. Still, there were slight but distinct changes in the environment. Here and there Malcolm spotted dry tufts of grass, and even a few stunted bushes, growing on sand dunes which proved the existence of a natural breeze beside the artificial one the moving shuttle produced. Squinting harder, he was able to make out blurred shapes far away in the distance.

"There's something over there."

"You're hallucinatin'," Trip mumbled. "I'm seein' water everywhere."

"No, I'm really seeing something. What about the second sun?"

"It'll disappear behind the horizon soon enough. I think after we've crossed another fifty kilometers or so we won't even be able to see it anymore."

"Which means there actually could be something there. Like houses or people."

"I can't go on until then."

Malcolm looked at his friend who was hardly able to keep his eyes open anymore. The engineer had to use his left hand to steady the right one which was holding the control stick. More than anything else, Malcolm wished he were able to take the helm for a while. But there was no way he could hold on to the manual control.

"Only a few more minutes, Trip," he said. "A few minutes. I can already make out the houses."

He was lying. Except for a few hazy shapes Malcolm couldn't see a thing.

But Trip believed him, if only because the prospect of having almost reached safety was giving him new strength. Still, he knew he couldn't go on for much longer. His fingers felt numb, and it became increasingly harder to keep course, the damaged engine reacting as slowly and awkwardly as his exhausted mind.

"I think there are trees." Malcolm squinted harder. Now he was really able to make out distinct shapes.

Trip's eyes were watering, and he was hardly able to see anything. He concentrated on the scanner data and the few readings the short range sensors provided.

"Looks like we've made it, Mal."

"I can hardly believe it." Malcolm watched in fascination as every kilometer they passed brought new changes in the landscape. The desert seemed to disappear, merging smoothly into a thick green forest.

Trip stretched, ignoring that every part of his body was aching like hell. There was no way he was giving up when they had almost reached their destination.

"Look if you can still see the second sun," he said to Malcolm when they approached the edge of the forest.

"It's gone," Malcolm reported.

"I'd thought as much." Pulling up the shuttle's nose, Trip surveyed the mass of tree tops beneath. "Looks great, doesn't it? How big is it?"

Malcolm checked the scanner. "The wooded area is about two kilometers wide, and stretches over several kilometers in length."

Trip flew an arc, and suddenly the outlines of houses appeared at the edge of the forest.

"Don't get too close. We should try to stay unnoticed, at least for the time being," Malcolm admonished.

"Well, in that case I'll have to start lookin' for a landin' site."

"Why don't you take us down right in front of the forest?"

"In the desert?" Trip threw Malcolm a doubtful look. "Mal, neither of us is up for a walk in the woods."

"Well, we can't land right in the middle of a settlement, can we? Think of what a commotion we'd cause. Wait a minute - what was that?"

"What?" Wearily, Trip raised his head.

"There was a clearing on the right. Over there."

Trip adjusted the shuttle's course, inwardly cursing the slowed down movements of the damaged engine. The shuttle was still able to hold a straight course, but navigating was almost made impossible by the damage the helm had suffered. Using all his piloting skills, he recalibrated the navigation controls, and a moment later saw the clearing Malcolm had pointed out. A green spot amongst the trees. Not very big, but it wasn't like they had much of a choice.

"I'll try."

Malcolm nodded, but said nothing. Since they were both suffering from a sore throat, they tried to keep conversation to a minimum. Malcolm had no illusions as to how dangerous it was to land under these conditions, but he trusted Trip's abilities. The engineer shut down the thrusters, pulled up the shuttle's nose, and did his best to keep the damaged wing away from the ground. A moment later the shuttle made contact with the clearing, lurching and shaking as it slid across the bumpy ground. Finally it came to stand in front of a big tree. Trip rested his head on the helm console, relief washing over him. They'd made it. But... now what?

"Good piloting, Trip," Malcolm said. "Why don't you try to rest for a while? I'll go and see if I can find some water."

"We should stay together."

"Well, I can't carry you. And in your condition it probably wouldn't be a good idea to try and crawl around out there. The ground looked quite bumpy."

"You're not in a very good condition either, Lieutenant. I can see from here that you're still runnin' a high fever. What're you gonna do if you collapse out there?"

"I don't know." Malcolm shrugged. Fact was they had to find water. And soon. If they did, he guessed they might be able to hold on one or two days until Enterprise found them. Well, at least Trip would be able to hold on. Malcolm tried not to think about his own condition too much. The fever was weakening his metabolism, and the gangrene was slowly killing him. With no medical attention he knew he wouldn't even survive until evening. But except amputating the necrotic limbs there was nothing a doctor could do, and the idea of losing his hands frightened him more than the prospect of death. He sighed.

"Let's take a look outside. This grass is the prettiest thing I've seen in a long time."

Trip nodded, glancing out the front window. The grass was a little darker than the grass back on Earth, but except for the color there was hardly any difference. Sliding down from his chair, he plopped down hard on the floor, lacking the strength to use his arms for support. Trip felt as though he was going to pass out any minute. The last seven hours of navigating the damaged shuttle had brought him to the very verge of physical collapse. Aware of Malcolm's worried eyes on him, he slowly pulled himself over to the hatch and untied the knot of their makeshift lock. As soon as the hatch had opened, he shrank back, letting out a hoarse cry.


	13. Chapter 13

When Malcolm turned around at the sound, he found himself looking at two aliens who were regarding him rather curiously. "Bloody hell."

"Exactly. So much for stayin' unnoticed." Trip threw a careful look at the strangers. It was a man and a woman, both of them looking very human. In fact, neither of them would have encountered any trouble passing for a normal citizen back on Earth.

The woman said something, her voice sounding friendly rather than frightened or even hostile. She turned to her companion and pointed in the direction from which they had apparently come from. The man nodded and left.

"My kingdom for a translator," Trip muttered.

Malcolm sat down next to him. "Mine's in the pocket on my right arm."

Trip opened the zipper, and pulled out the small translating device. "I could kiss you, Mal."

"I'd rather you restrain yourself." Malcolm didn't take his eyes off the alien woman. "She doesn't look hostile."

"Well, looks like for once luck's on our side," Trip said, switching on the UT. The woman who was patiently watching seemed to know what he was doing, and started to speak again. After a while they were able to understand what she was saying.

"Can we help you somehow? We watched your vessel going down. Where do you come from?"

"We had to make an emergency landin' out in the desert," Trip answered hoarsely.

"In the desert? And you survived that?" The woman turned back to her companion who was hurrying towards the shuttle, carrying a bottle of water in each hand. Trip swallowed dryly, exchanging a glance with Malcolm. The man gave him one of the bottles, and opened the other one for Malcolm.

"Your hands are injured," he stated. "Let me help you."

"Drink as much as you want," the woman said. "We've got more back in our flitter."

They emptied the bottles in several big gulps, allowing the cool liquid to run down their dry throats. It felt like they had never tasted anything that good before. The water seemed to wash away all the dirt and dust, filling them with new strength.

"They're both badly injured," the man said to his companion. "We should take them to a doctor."

"Yes," the woman agreed. "Why don't we take them directly to the Health Center? They'll get the best medical attention there."

"We left our flitter right at the edge of the forest," the man said, taking the now empty bottles. "Come on, we'll help you."

Malcolm swallowed, running his tongue over his lips. "My friend can't walk," he said.

"Then I'll carry him. Salita can help you. By the way, my name is Falik."

Allowing Salita to help him to his feet, Malcolm introduced himself and Trip. Falik wrapped one arm around Trip's upper body and the other one around his legs, lifting him as effortlessly as though he weighed nothing at all.

Trip threw Malcolm a questioning glance. Could it really be that these aliens were genuinely friendly, only trying to help? Were they really going to take them to a doctor, or was it all a charade? Malcolm was feeling suspicious as well, but realized that at the moment they didn't really have a choice but to trust these people.

With Salita lending him a supporting hand whenever he needed it, Malcolm slowly and awkwardly made his way through the forest. Luckily, though, the underbrush wasn't very thick, and only ten minutes later the small group arrived at the place where the couple had parked their flitter. It looked like a cross between an old-fashioned car and a shuttle, with big doors on both sides. Falik helped Trip sit down in one of the comfortable-looking bucket seats while Malcolm climbed in on his own, letting out a relieved sigh as he lowered himself onto the soft material of the seat. Salita took a seat behind the steering wheel.

"You're not from Renelan, are you?" she asked, looking back over her shoulder. Trip and Malcolm traded a glance.

"I mean, it's obvious," she smiled. "I've never seen that kind of shuttle before. Are you from Menaos or from Alkira?"

Neither of them knew what to say in response, but Falik saved them.

"Leave them alone, Salita, you see how tired they are. Of course they're either from Menaos or Alkira. After all, those are the only inhabited planets in our system - besides Renelan, of course. They'll tell us how they came to be here soon enough. At the moment, we shouldn't lose any time."

Malcolm threw Trip a relieved glance, and Trip nodded. It was obvious that the Renelans had made contact with alien species before. It seemed they were interacting on a more or less regular basis with the inhabitants of the other two M-class worlds in this system. Still, Malcolm and he had to find out more about this culture before they told these people the whole truth, and for the moment the conclusions Falik had drawn would suffice, even though they were fallacious. But at least he had saved them from having to answer Salita's curios questions.

Trip rested his head on the padded seat, giving in to his exhaustion. He'd have liked to know where they were going, but it was getting harder and harder, keeping his eyes open. For the moment, he felt safe. He was glad Salita and Falik had found them, and were willing to help them as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And it was necessary for Malcolm to see a doctor as soon as possible. Trip swallowed at the thought, afraid of what might be awaiting Malcolm at the end of their flight.

Wearily, Malcolm stared out the window, watching the roofs passing by about five meters below. Most of the houses were white one-store buildings, and as far as he could see, they looked clean and well-kept. After a while the scenery changed, and vast corn fields replaced the buildings. Half an hour later they passed the fringes of a big town. The traffic was very heavy, flitters whizzing past in four, sometimes even five lanes. Malcolm didn't understand how the system worked, but Salita had no problems finding her way.

Falik turned around in his seat and smiled. "The large building over there is the provincial Health Center. I'm sure the doctors there will be able to help you."

"Thank you," Malcolm replied. "We appreciate your help."

"Don't mention it. It's always exciting, meeting visitors from Menaos or Alkira. It's been quite a long time ago since any guests showed up around here."

Salita sighed. "Well, offending foreign traders isn't exactly the best policy, but tell that to our Governor. I'm surprised Menaos and Alkira are still sending anyone at all. Are you merchants too?"

Malcolm nodded vaguely.

"I hope your cargo hasn't suffered too much damage. How long have you been out there in the desert?"

"Four days," Malcolm answered. "Our engines failed, but fortunately my friend was able to repair them."

"Four days out in the desert." Falik shook his head. "I'm not surprised you two look so beat." He looked up when Salita took the flitter down in front of the large building.

"We're there. I'll go inside and get someone. You'd better wake up your friend."

"I'm awake," Trip mumbled sleepily. He'd been listening to the last part of the conversation, and had been impressed by the polite diplomacy with which Malcolm had answered the couple's question. He regretted not being able to tell these people the truth, but it was too early to tell them where he and Malcolm really came from.

Trip blinked when a tall young man climbed into the flitter. He had fair, ash blond hair that touched his shoulders, and combined with his soft features it gave him an almost feminine appearance. The man threw a glance at Malcolm's dirty bandages, and frowned.

"Are you able to walk on your own?" he asked in a soft baritone.

Malcolm nodded. "I am, but my friend can't walk."

The stranger gestured at a young man who had followed him into the flitter to assist Malcolm. Then he turned to Trip, throwing a quick glance at the swollen leg and the deep cut that was barely hidden under the torn fabric of Trip's jeans. When the stranger lifted him up as effortlessly as if he were picking up a child, Trip decided that there was nothing feminine at all about the man's physical strength.

"Thanks!" he called back to Salita and Falik who both raised a hand, waving them goodbye.

They entered a large entrance hall and passed the desk where a middle aged receptionist was seated in front of several computers. There were two hallways leading away from the hall, and the stranger led his small group down the right corridor. After passing a long row of doors they finally entered a room which seemed to be a cross between a sickroom and a laboratory. The stranger lowered Trip onto a bed, then helped Malcolm lie down as well.

"I'm Jeren." He smiled at them. "What are your names?"

Malcolm introduced himself and Trip while Jeren had his assistant remove the bandages from the lieutenant's hands.

"I was told you've been out in the desert for four days?" he asked, filling two hyposprays and pressing one of them against Malcolm's neck. "Not the best place to strand on our world."

"Yes," Malcolm confirmed. "We had to make an emergency landing."

"Are you in pain?" Jeren asked.

"At the moment it's not too bad."

"Good. These burns are rather serious. I'll take care of them later. Our first priority has to be restoring your electrolyte metabolism." He turned to Trip, injecting him with the second hypospray. "You look exhausted."

"Yeah," Trip admitted. He was hardly able to keep his eyes open, but he couldn't go to sleep now. First he had to know what was going to happen to them. He couldn't just doze off, placing his health and well-being in the hands of someone he had only met a few minutes before.

Jeren smiled. "It's okay, you can go to sleep. There is nothing to worry about."

He pressed another hypo against Trip's neck, and a moment later there was nothing Trip could do to fight the dark haze that was beginning to surround him. His last conscious thought was of Malcolm, and he wondered if his friend would still have his hands when he woke up again.

Jeren injected Malcolm with a sedative as well, then turned to his assistant, shaking his head. "Really, Kenan, those two are a sorry sight if I've ever seen one."

"Maybe we should go get the counselors," Kenan said, but Jeren shook his head emphatically.

"No, that won't be necessary. That one isn't in such a bad condition, he's just exhausted. Take a quick scan and then take care of the cut in his leg and the sunburn. I'll see what I can do about these hands."

Jeren checked that Malcolm was indeed fast asleep, then began to examine the lieutenant's hands, a worried look on his face.

"Jeren! Take a look at that." Kenan was holding a hand scanner in his outstretched hand.

"Not now, Kenan," Jeren waved him off. "I'm busy."

"It's important."

Kenan's excited tone of voice made the young doctor look up. Carefully, he laid Malcolm's hands back down on the bed and took the hand scanner. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he looked up at his assistant, astonishment written all over his face.

"That's impossible. The scanner must be malfunctioning."

"I checked it three times. The readings are correct."

Jeren gave Trip a thoughtful look. "I need a full analysis," he decided. "Put him into the scanning tube for an overall diagnosis. But be careful that he doesn't wake up in the meantime."

"Of course."

"And Kenan..."

"Yes?"

"I'd like to keep this between the two of us, for the time being. As long as I don't know what exactly is going on here, I don't want anyone to know about this. Alright?"

The assistant's eyelids fluttered nervously, but then he nodded. "I won't tell anybody."

Doubtfully, Jeren watched his assistant who prepared Trip for a full body scan. For a moment the doctor's eyes came to rest on the still body, and he ran his teeth over his lower lip. Then Jeren turned back to Malcolm.

* * *

 

Trip awoke from the sound of a low voice. It took him only a few seconds to orient himself and to remember what had happened. He was still tired but in fact he felt much better than he had the last few days. He noticed that he was covered with a light yellow sheet, wearing only his skivvies and it felt as if someone had washed off the worst of the sand and grime while he had been unconscious. Trip lay silently, anxiously feeling every part of his body. The pain that had been tormenting him was gone. What a wonderful feeling. Trip looked at his arms and saw in astonishment that the sunburn was completely gone. His throat didn't feel sore anymore and the cracks in his lips were gone as well. Trip tried to sit up to have a look at his leg but he wasn't able to do so. His arms couldn't carry his weight, feeling as though they consisted of rubber. He sighed when he realized that his condition hadn't really changed. He was still weak. But his calf felt normal, without the painful stinging that had been bothering him the last few days.

He looked around the room. Malcolm was sleeping in the bed next to him. His arms were hidden under the sheets and Trip had no chance to see whether he still had his hands. He could only hope so.

Trip had no idea what time it was. The room had no windows and the lights were dimmed. He was sure he had slept for several hours. He concentrated on the quiet voice coming from the next room, and after a while he was able to understand what was being said.

"No, I don't want them to stay here. It's too dangerous."

Trip frowned. Dangerous? What was that supposed to mean? Were they in danger or were they considered a threat?

"If someone finds out, there will be a lot of trouble," the voice continued. "I would like to keep them out of sight." A short pause followed. "That's very kind of you. In about two or three hours, I think. Thank you. Bye."

The person on the phone had clearly been talking about him and Malcolm. But what about the danger the stranger had mentioned?

"Hey, you're awake!" The young doctor - Trip remembered he was called Jeren - entered the room. He took a glass of water from a table and offered it to Trip while he supported the engineer's back with one hand. "How do you feel?"

"Tired." Trip's hand trembled slightly, but he managed to drink the water without spilling it. It was cool and very refreshing. "What did you do?" he asked.

Jeren smiled. "We took care of your injuries, healed the cut in your calf as well as the cracks in your skin and your sunburn. By the way, the sunburn was rather serious. But I was able to lower your fever and block the infection. You had also contracted a rather bad case of conjunctivitis and I'm still trying to stabilize your drained body."

"Thank you. What about my friend?"

Jeren glanced at Malcolm. "He'll be okay."

"His hands?" Trip held his breath, anxiously watching the man before him.

The doctor smiled. "They proved quite a challenge. But I think I managed quite well."

"You're sayin' he won't lose them?"

"Exactly. One more treatment, perhaps two and they should be as good as new."

"That's... amazin'." Trip let out a deep breath. "This is really good news. I was afraid that..." Trip left the sentence unfinished.

"His injuries were very serious indeed. But our medical knowledge is very advanced. How come his hands were so badly burnt?"

"Malcolm landed our shuttle while the helm was burnin'."

"I see," Jeren mumbled and threw a glance at Malcolm. "Where are you from?"

Trip hesitated.

"You're not from Menaos and neither from Alkira. You do look like people from our system but your blood is different and so is your nerve system. You're definitely not from here."

"No, we aren't," Trip admitted. He didn't know why but he trusted this young man despite of the phone call he had happened to overhear. He decided to tell him the truth. "We're from a planet called Earth."

"But you didn't come from there in a shuttle."

"Our ship is called Enterprise. I hope she's on her way to get us away from here. We encountered a few problems with our shuttle, which was badly damaged. We had to try an emergency landin' in the desert."

"The two people who found you told us so. You were lucky. I guess you landed at the border of the desert."

"At the border?"

"Oh yes. In the middle of the desert, the solar radiation from our second sun is very strong. At this time of the year it gets as hot as 80 degrees celsius out there. A few thousand kilometers to the North the heat is much more bearable although it is still warm. When the sun reaches its highest orbit in a few weeks, temperatures will rise to about 120 degrees in the desert. No living being can bear such a heat."

"And there I was thinkin' it couldn't get any hotter," Trip mumbled.

"This sun is a curse for our planet. We can only live in a limited area where it doesn't shine most of the year. The habitable area is only about 800 kilometers in diameter."

"That's not much for a whole planet. I suppose this causes you a lot of problems."

Jeren nodded, but Trip had the feeling that he was very uncomfortable with this matter.

"What about you?" Jeren asked. "It's not because of this cut in your calf that you're not able to walk, is it? You can't move your legs. Am I right?"

Trip sighed. There was no fooling this man. "Yes, you are."

"And the trembling of your hands has nothing to do with these injuries either."

"That's correct as well."

Jeren chewed on his lower lip. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

The young doctor broke off when a soft moan came from the bed next to them. He stood up and went over there, patiently waiting until Malcolm opened his eyes.

"How are you?" he asked, smiling.

"I don't know," Malcolm muttered and blinked to clear his vision. "I feel okay."

Jeren fetched a glass of water and offered it to Malcolm. "Shall I help you or do you want to try on your own?"

Malcolm looked at him with big eyes, then sat up and pulled out his hands from under the sheets. He stared at them in disbelief. They were still bandaged and feeling a little numb, but he could move them and was able to bend his fingers without experiencing any pain.

Very cautiously, he closed his fingers around the glass of water and drank. "I don't believe it," he murmured. He looked at Trip. "Did you see that?"

"Yes Malcolm. It's great!"

Malcolm shut his eyes for a moment. His hands were going to heal. He didn't have to be afraid of losing them anymore. The relief was so overwhelming that he had to blink away some tears. He bit his lip to stop a silly grin that was tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was going to be fine. But what about Trip? He looked at his friend. "Can you..."

Trip knew what Malcolm was trying to ask without giving away too much about his condition. He nodded appeasingly.

"Good." Malcolm sighed in relief and lay back again, happily looking down at his hands.

Jeren had been patiently listening to their conversation, but now he joined in. "Listen, I'd like to make a suggestion," he told them. "You've been sleeping the whole afternoon and it's going to get dark in about an hour. This establishment isn't actually designed to keep people over night. You can stay here, of course, if you want, but my sister and I would be glad to invite you to our home until your ship arrives."

"Why?" Malcolm asked.

Jeren frowned. "What do you mean?"

"That's a very kind offer but why would you invite us? I mean, you don't know us. We're not even from your planet."

"That's right, but in the Renelan culture, hospitality is very important. Besides, you're both in need of rest, and as I said, this is not an ideal place for getting a good night's sleep. My sister Erianna loves to have guests in the house and she's very interested in everything concerning space and space travel. We would love to hear your story. How you happened to strand here on our planet, I mean. But I can understand if you don't trust us yet. If you prefer to stay here, I will remain with you through the night."

Malcolm glanced at Trip with a questioning look on his face. Trip shrugged. Reed was the security officer, it was his job to decide what to do. The phone call Trip had overheard came back to his mind. He supposed Jeren had been talking to his sister. The doctor seemed to be genuinely worried about them. Fact was, he'd helped Malcolm much more than Phlox would have ever been able to.

Malcolm had similar thoughts. "Please don't think I'm being overly suspicious," he said.

"That's okay." Jeren smiled. "It's always better to be cautious, especially when you're on an alien planet. But it's a fact that I can take far better care of your health if you'll agree to stay at my home. And you'll get some real food there as well."

Again Malcolm looked at Trip and this time the engineer nodded.

"We're very grateful," Malcolm said. "But we don't want to cause you any trouble."

"You won't. Erianna is looking forward to your visit. I guess she will ask you a thousand questions about your missions. Excuse me for a moment, I'll just check whether Kenan is back already. He took care of your clothes. Please don't try to get up yet, okay?"

Trip nodded. There was no way for him to get out of bed, anyway. Malcolm, however, sat up the moment Jeren left the room.

"What do you think of him?" he asked.

"I think he's okay."

"All the people here are so bloody friendly."

"And that's botherin' you? I'm glad they are."

"Me too, although I have a strange feeling."

"You always have strange feelings, Malcolm. I guess it's a necessary trait if you're a security officer."

Malcolm wasn't amused. "I believe I don't have to remind you what has happened the last time I had a strange feeling."

Trip took a deep breath. "No, you don't. But I really think we can trust Jeren. That's what my feelings are tellin' me. And besides, what else can we do? We have to find someone we can trust here. Enterprise can be here tomorrow evening at the very earliest."

Malcolm nodded. A moment later the door opened and Jeren came back. He gave Malcolm his uniform and lay Trip's jeans and t-shirt on his bed.

"Look at that," Malcolm exclaimed. "The clothes look like new. Even the tears are gone."

"We have our possibilities," Jeren smiled. "Do you want me to help you?"

Malcolm cast his hands a doubtful look. "I believe I can manage on my own."

"You can try, of course. But be careful. Please tell me immediately when your hands begin to hurt." Jeren put a hand on Trip's back and helped him sit up. Trip closed his eyes as the world began to spin around him.

"Do you feel dizzy?" Jeren asked in a worried tone of voice.

"Yes." Trip swallowed and licked over his lips.

Jeren looked over his shoulder at Malcolm. "There is a glass of water standing on that table. Could you bring it over here, please?"

Malcolm, who was having a hard time trying to button up his shirt, nodded and walked on bare feet over to the table. Just to be sure he took the glass with both hands and brought it over to Trip. Trip wanted to take it but realized in astonishment that his arms were suddenly feeling way too heavy to do so.

"It's okay," Jeren said gently. "I'll help you." He held the glass to Trip's lips.

Malcolm frowned while Trip was drinking. "What's the matter with him?"

"I don't know," Jeren admitted. "I think he's just exhausted." Thoughtfully, the doctor looked down at Trip's legs. "I think we need to talk about this. But first I want to take you back to my house."

Jeren helped Trip with his t-shirt and pulled the jeans over his legs. Trip realized that Jeren knew all about his condition, and wondered what other examinations the doctor had conducted while he had been unconscious. After helping him and Malcolm with their socks and shoes, Jeren took a silvery disc from his computer station and put it in a bag together with some flasks and hyposprays.

"Ready?" he asked, putting the bag over his shoulder.

Trip bit his lip, but Jeren didn't hesitate even for a split second, picking him up as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "You'll manage on your own?" he asked in Malcolm's direction. When the lieutenant nodded he led them out the door and to a vehicle similar to the one in which they had been brought here. Carefully, he sat Trip down in one of the chairs and gestured to Malcolm to take a seat as well.

The monotonous humming of the engines made Trip sleepy. He dozed a little, his thoughts returning to Malcolm. He was so grateful and relieved that his friend wasn't going to lose his hands. It seemed like luck was finally on their side, after all.

Malcolm, too, was thinking. Slightly worried, he looked over at Trip. The flight had exerted him very much but this time his body seemed to be able to cope with the strain. He only hoped that there were no more bad surprises waiting for them.

Malcolm looked up when the vehicle landed in a garden in front of a white building. Gently he touched Trip's arm. "I think we're there."


	14. Chapter 14

Trip groaned and opened his eyes. At this moment a young woman came out of the building, a cheerful smile on her face. She seemed to be a few years older than Jeren, but she looked a lot like him. Her long hair was of the same light color and her friendly smile brightened up her features.

Trip felt terribly humiliated when Jeren picked him up. He would have given a lot to be able to meet this pretty woman on his own feet.

Jeren introduced them. "This is my sister Erianna. And these two are Trip and Malcolm."

"Welcome to our home! Please, come in." Erianna gestured at the open door.

Jeren sat Trip on a chair in a large room that looked like some sort of living room, and offered Malcolm a seat as well. Erianna took a seat at the other side of the table and gave them a questioning look, smiling a little. "I apologize if I've been staring at you. Jeren told me you come from another system. It's amazing that you look exactly like us."

"Oh, there are some differences, Erianna," Jeren told her before Trip or Malcolm could answer. "But we can talk about this later. At the moment we should get them something to eat." He grinned. "That's something they need just like we do."

"Of course." Erianna got up. "I've prepared some soup. I'll go and get it. You stay here and entertain our guests."

Trip was far too tired to be thinking of food. He raised a hand to cover a yawn.

"You have to regain your strength," Jeren told him. "Just a little bit of soup. You can try solid food tomorrow." He put two glasses in front of them, each containing a milky, slightly pink fluid. "Drink this. It will help you recuperate." He threw a questioning look at Trip. "Shall I help you?"

Trip shook his head. He wouldn't allow himself to be fed as long as he was still able to move a single finger. He had difficulties to hold on to the glass but he didn't spill a drop while drinking.

Erianna brought two bowls of soup. "I hope you'll like it."

Trip forced himself to pick up the spoon. He didn't want to offend Erianna, but his stomach gave a lurch at the mere thought of food. He managed to eat a little, though. The soup tasted good and made him feel warm from the inside. Contrary to his expectations he actually found himself feeling better afterwards.

Jeren watched him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why do you have T-14 in your body?"

"T- what?" Trip looked up with a bemused expression on his face.

"Tetraparcyllin. It's a chemical substance, and can be found in various compositions and dilutions. To make things easier they've been put in a numerical order. What you have in your body is very similar to T-14."

Trip threw Malcolm an astonished glance. "This stuff has a name."

"Seems so," Malcolm agreed. "And it seems like it's well known around here."

"You don't know about T-14?" Jeren raised his eyebrows.

"No, it's a completely unknown substance to us."

Jeren raised his hands. "If that's the case, then why are you infected with it? This substance is the reason you can't walk, isn't it?"

Trip nodded. "It's a long story." He yawned, feeling too tired to talk. "Malcolm, would you be so kind...?"

Malcolm chewed on his lower lip, thinking. "The whole trouble started when we were scanning a solar system that contained several uninhabited planets. Our science officer, T'Pol, detected a small area on one of the moons the scanners couldn't get a fix on." Malcolm grinned. "Trip wanted to tease her a little and came up with different theories as to why that place couldn't be scanned. Eventually the captain complied and sent us down to investigate. We found a weird fog-like substance which was actually a cloaking field hiding a gigantic building."

"A building?" Erianna virtually hung on his lips. "What happened then?"

"It seemed to be abandoned. Trip found a computer station and downloaded the data so our linguist could translate it. When we were about to leave the building we were attacked by aliens."

Malcolm looked down at his bowl, embarrassed. Trip knew he felt uncomfortable with that particular part, and continued. "They succeeded in overpowerin' me, but Malcolm managed to get away and escape." Trip saw Malcolm clenching his hands and knew that his friend still felt he'd been letting him down. "The aliens dragged me to a lab and injected somethin' into my spine."

"T-14," Jeren added. "Did the substance show any direct effects?"

"Not exactly what the aliens had expected, but it was only a few weeks later when we found out about that. The poison was supposed to completely paralyze me so I wouldn't be able to escape. Because of our different physiologies it didn't work quite that way, though. I remember that for a few seconds my body was burnin' like hell, and I was feelin' totally numb. After a while the pain subsided. My legs stayed paralyzed, though. Malcolm did a great job carryin' my outta there and gettin' me back to the shuttle."

"Not an easy task, I guess." Jeren raised his eyebrows at Malcolm. "No offence, but your bones are very fragile. Your species doesn't seem to have great physical strength."

"Jeren", Erianna admonished, slightly shaking her head.

"Well, it's the truth," Jeren answered back. "It's not their fault. I believe it's not easy for you to carry a grown man."

"Looks like for you, that's no problem at all." Trip grimaced.

"We can carry a weight one and a half times our body weight," Erianna explained.

Malcolm looked up, surprised. "The women, too?"

"Yes, of course. We're not weaker than the men."

Trip looked at her. The image of being picked up and carried without any effort by this young woman, although she was about the same height as he was, was fascinating.

"So you were able to escape," Jeren reminded them of their former conversation. He refilled their glasses with the milky substance, gesturing at both of them to drink.

"We escaped from the moon," Malcolm told them. "But the aliens called for help and held Enterprise in a tractor beam until one of their military vessels arrived."

"And what did you do?"

"Trip came up with a way to break free from the tractor beam. But we couldn't stop them from transporting Trip aboard their ship where they conducted some..." Malcolm paused briefly, "...examinations."

Now it was Trip's turn to look down at his hands. Those terrible hours aboard the alien ship weren't something he liked to be reminded of. Jeren looked at him with sympathy in his eyes. "I understand," he said simply.

"But we were able to retrieve him. We couldn't leave our best engineer in their hands, could we?" Malcolm smiled, glancing at Trip.

"You're an engineer?" Erianna asked.

Trip nodded and tried to suppress a yawn. All he wanted to do was go to sleep. But he liked Erianna and Jeren, and tried not to let his exhaustion show so as not to offend them.

"When Trip gets a technical device to play with he'll completely forget about his surroundings," Malcolm teased, but looked worried when Trip didn't react. He decided to bring his story to a quick end. "About a week later Trip's paralysis was getting worse. He tried to hide it but wasn't able to do so for long. Within two days he was completely paralyzed. Our ship's doctor is a very capable physician, but even he had no idea what to do. And after a while Trip's respiratory system began to shut down."

Erianna looked at Trip with compassionate eyes. "That must have been awful. What did you do to help him?"

"Eventually the captain succeeded in making contact with the aliens and eliminating some earlier misunderstandings. They generated a cure which the captain brought aboard Enterprise just in time."

"How long ago did that happen?" Jeren suddenly seemed to be very excited, but tried not to let it show.

"It's been nearly three weeks." Trip threw a thankful glance at Malcolm. He was glad his friend hadn't told them exactly how miserable his condition had been at the very end. How he had lain on a biobed, completely helpless, hooked up to a respirator and not even able to swallow his own saliva. He liked Erianna and Jeren a lot, but these embarrassing details were none of their business.

Jeren was lost in thoughts. "It looks like the cure took very quick effect," he said.

"Yeah, within a few days the paralysis was beginnin' to recede," Trip explained. "I was almost able to walk again, but then I suffered a relapse." He yawned. "Sorry."

Jeren stood up and picked up a medical scanner. "You're still very exhausted," he stated.

"Yes, I'm awfully tired. Sorry for bein' such borin' company."

"You aren't." Jeren looked down at his scanner. "That's strange. Malcolm has regained his strength a lot faster than you."

"Hear that, Trip?" Malcolm teased, but his eyes betrayed his worry.

Jeren smiled. "Erianna has prepared our parent's bedroom for you. I guess you should both try and get some rest."

"There's only one problem," Erianna said softly.

Trip looked at her. "I guess your parents need the room."

"Oh no, they're long dead."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Trip blushed. "I didn't mean to..."

"That's okay. You had no way of knowing. It's just that there is only a double bed in this room. Is that a problem for you?"

Trip couldn't suppress a smile when he looked at Malcolm. "Is that a problem for us, Lieutenant?"

"Not as long as you're going to behave, Commander."

Erianna gave Trip an astonished look. "You're a commander, Trip?"

"Third in rank aboard Enterprise," Malcolm confirmed.

"And Malcolm's next after me. He's our security chief and tactical officer." Trip smiled. Erianna's open admiration was comforting, in a way. "We have no problem with sleeping in the same bed. It was rather cramped in the shuttle as well."

"But you're not..." Jeren waved his hand questioningly between the two of them.

"No, we're not," Trip answered. "Just good friends."

"We wouldn't mind, but I'm afraid a lot of people on our planet are somewhat narrow-minded where these things are concerned."

"It was the same back on Earth a few centuries ago," Malcolm nodded. "But fortunately things have changed a lot."

Trip looked down at his hands, and noticed that they were starting to tremble slightly. Damnit, he didn't need that now. He didn't want to appear weak. It was bad enough, having to put up with being carried around all the time. He tried to suppress the trembling, but failed miserably.

"Trip! What's the matter with you?" Erianna asked, alarmed.

"Damnit," Malcolm muttered. "Is it starting again?" He laid a comforting hand on Trip's shoulder, glad that he was able to do so again.

Jeren picked up his scanner. "Would you two mind if I took a blood sample? I would like to conduct further examinations."

Malcolm shrugged. "No problem. Take what you need." Trip nodded as well.

Jeren pressed a hypospray against Malcolm's arm, extracting enough blood to fill a small phial. When it was Trip's turn, the doctor laid a hand on the engineer's arm. For a moment he felt the muscle's convulsive trembling. He shook his head and took the blood from Trip's jugular vein. He labeled the two phials and laid them aside. After that he took a body scan of Trip. "I think you're in dire need of rest," he told him. "The last few days have been very strenuous for you. Your body is protesting against the strain you've been putting on it. I'll give you a strong muscle relaxant. You won't be able to move a lot but that shouldn't be too big a problem since you'll be sleeping most of the time. At least until tomorrow evening. I believe you'll be feeling much better after that. Is that okay with you?"

"A whole day?" Trip felt uncomfortable with the thought of being out for such a long time. "I don't want to be any trouble."

"Don't worry about that." Erianna stood up. "That's okay. You'd do well following Jeren's advice."

Trip looked at Malcolm questioningly and his friend nodded as well.

"Okay. I'll do everythin' if you'll only find a way to stop this tremblin'."

Jeren injected him with a hypospray and immediately the trembling subsided.

"Thank you." Trip sighed in relief.

"You'll soon be getting very tired. I'll take you to your room. As for you, Malcolm, you should rest as well. Your body is still fighting the infection."

Malcolm nodded. He hadn't been planning to leave Trip alone, anyway.

Jeren picked Trip up and carried him to a spacious bedroom. Carefully, he laid him down on one side of the bed. When he started to take off his shoes, Malcolm put his hand on Jeren's shoulder. "I'll do that."

"You sure?"

Malcolm looked at his still bandaged hands. "I think so."

"Okay. Call me if you need help or if there are any problems. No matter what time it is. The door in the rear leads to the bathroom. I hope you'll be able to find some sleep."

"Thank you, Jeren. For all your help."

"You're welcome. I hope Trip'll be feeling better soon."

Malcolm took off Trip's shoes and pants. He made very slow progress doing so because his fingers were still a little numb, but he knew that Trip preferred him being the one who assisted him. They'd made friends with Jeren and Erianna very quickly, but helping someone undress was a very intimate matter, after all. Trip would feel more comfortable with Malcolm helping him.

"Thanks, Mal," Trip mumbled sleepily.

"That's okay." Malcolm looked at his friend whose eyes were slowly drifting shut. "Do you think Enterprise is going to come to pick us up? We've been away for almost five days now..."

"I'm sure the cap'n is movin' heaven and earth to find us." Trip's voice was beginning to sound indistinct.

"I'm just wondering..."

"What?" Trip tried to focus on Malcolm's voice, although it was hard to stay awake. In the meantime the trembling had stopped, but his arms had become too heavy to lift them up. They lay on the bed like dead weights. It felt as if Malcolm's voice was coming through a thick fog. Nevertheless, he tried to listen to what his friend was saying.

"Do you think the captain will find us here?"

"Of course. They'll be able to locate the shuttle. The emergency signal is still on." Trip yawned.

"But we're not anywhere near the shuttle. The physiology of these people is quite similar to ours. Jeren said there are certain differences but I wonder whether they'll be enough for Enterprise's scanners to locate us among all these people."

Trip had been thinking about that as well. "If you'll get the two communicators for me, I'll be able to build a portable emergency signal good enough to make even T'Pol's eyebrow twitch."

"Really?"

"I only need my toolbox." Trip's voice had become very blurred.

"I'll see what I can do." Malcolm pushed Trip's legs under the sheets, carefully covering him with the blanket. "Sleep well, my friend. If you need something, I'm right here."

Trip mumbled something indistinct, then his deep breathing told Malcolm that he had gone to sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Malcolm groaned and stretched his arms and legs. It had been a long time since he'd slept so well. Since he'd felt so good. He looked over at Trip who was still sleeping soundly. His cheeks were flushed, though, and his damp hair fell over his sweaty forehead. Leaning forward, Malcolm stroked back one of the blond locks, frowning. It wasn't very warm in the room, and he found the temperature agreeable. The curtains were drawn, and only a dim glow came through the thick fabric. It seemed like somebody had been looking after them during the night.

Malcolm smiled, got up and went to the bathroom. He soon realized, however, that with his bandaged hands he'd have a hard time using the shower facilities, and decided to postpone the shower for now. As much as he was looking forward to being clean again, he knew it would have to wait until the bandages came off and he was allowed to wet his hands again.

Malcolm wondered whether the planet's water supplies were sufficient for so many people. Could you afford to use up that much water just for showering when most of your world consisted of a great hot desert? Maybe it would be better to ask first because he knew that when he got into the shower he wouldn't be leaving it for a long time. He tried to moisten a cloth without getting the bandages wet and went to Trip's bedside to wash his friend's face. Trip groaned and turned his head to one side, but he didn't wake up. Malcolm ran the cloth over Trip's forehead, wondering why his friend was sweating that much.

There was a knock at the door, and when Malcolm looked up Jeren came in, smiling. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby. Just wonderful."

"How do you feel?"

"Good. Rested."

"How's Trip doing?"

"I don't know. He's sweating."

Jeren pushed the covers aside to run his scanner over Trip. "The muscle relaxant I gave him is very strong and so is the sedative. The medication causes the strong transpiration but it won't harm him. It's essential for him to get enough rest so his body can recuperate."

Malcolm threw Trip a worried look. "But this relaxant doesn't have any dangerous side effects, does it? I mean, it won't affect his heart or lungs or something like that."

"No, of course not. I assured myself that the substances I injected him with are compatible with your physiology. There's no need to worry. This evening he'll be feeling a lot better."

"That's good." Malcolm wasn't entirely convinced, though, his eyes resting worriedly on his sleeping friend.

"Breakfast is ready," Jeren told him. "You must be hungry. And I'd like you to accompany me to the Health Center later. Your hands need another treatment."

"I don't want to leave Trip alone in this condition."

"Really, you don't need to worry. Erianna will take care of him. You can trust her."

"But if I take the UT with me they won't be able to understand each other."

"That doesn't matter. I don't think Trip's going to regain consciousness until evening. Believe me, it's best for now to let him sleep." Jeren released the content of a hypospray in Trip's jugular vein, then gestured at the door, smiling. "We're waiting for you."

* * *

 

Looking out the window of Jeren's flitter, Malcolm found himself noticing a lot more details than he had on the previous day. They were flying just above the roofs, and Malcolm thought by himself that the people on this planet didn't seem to be very inventive. One house looked like the other, same design and same white color. Malcolm was surprised to see that most of the buildings were detached houses; there were no apartment blocks or skyscrapers at all. All of the houses had large gardens, and there were a great number of parks as well. Given the limited possibilities they had on this planet, Malcolm had assumed that people would live in much more cramped conditions here. He could hardly imagine that the whole habitable area on this planet was only about 800 kilometers in diameter. And the rest of the planet consisted of a huge desert. Why would someone waste essential living space by filling it with parks and greenery?

Malcolm's thoughts returned to Trip. He still didn't feel entirely comfortable, leaving him behind. The Renelans had given them a warm welcome but he and Trip were still on a strange planet amongst strangers. He trusted Erianna to take good care of Trip but at the same time it was a strange feeling, leaving his barely conscious friend with a woman they'd gotten to know only a few hours before. Trip had looked so vulnerable this morning. So helpless, in a way. Malcolm felt something clench in his chest at the thought.

"You're worried about Trip?" Jeren interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes," he admitted with a sigh. "I'm Enterprise's security officer, and responsible for the crew's welfare. It doesn't feel right, leaving him behind."

Jeren smiled. "But that's not the only reason why you're worried about him, is it?" When Malcolm gave him a questioning look, he continued: "Do you blame yourself for what happened to Trip?"

Malcolm started slightly. "Why would you think so?"

"Something in your face betrayed your feelings when you told us about Trip's

capture yesterday. Do you think you could have done something to prevent it?"

Malcolm sighed deeply. "Not really. And I'm not blaming myself, either. Not anymore. But I can't stop thinking about it. I still find myself wondering if there was something I could have done to stop them from giving Trip this poison."

"And? Found something?"

"No, not really."

"Perhaps because there isn't anything to find. Perhaps you've done just the right thing and there was no way for you to prevent what happened. I'm sure Trip doesn't blame you."

"Hmm," Malcolm muttered vaguely.

"You're very good friends, aren't you?"

"We are now." Malcolm smiled. "It wasn't that easy at the beginning. We're very different. It's not easy to figure him out." Malcolm shrugged. "Okay, that's exactly what people say about me and I guess they're right. I'm not the man to socialize very easily with other people. I never thought we could become such good friends. Sometimes I wonder how two completely different people like us can get along so well. Well, but we do have something in common: we never get tired of teasing each other..."

Jeren licked his lips. "Sounds like there's a little rivalry going on between the two of you."

Malcolm looked at him, astonished. He had never thought about it this way. But Jeren could be right. He grinned. "Trip's the best engineer I've ever met. Give him a toy to tinker with and he'll build you a scanner to map the galaxy. I can't beat him there."

"But Trip said the same things about you. He said you're the best at your job."

"Well, I don't know. I guess I know a little more about fighting and shooting than Trip does."

"Shooting?" Jeren threw him an incredulous look.

"Of course. I'm not only security officer of Enterprise; I'm also in charge of the armory."

Jeren nodded slowly. "I can imagine a spaceship needs men who are good at shooting and hand-to-hand combat. On Renelan no one is allowed to carry a weapon except for the governor's guards."

"Really no one?"

"No. In fact there aren't any weapons available. They are manufactured only for the guards on the governor's express orders."

"I see." And Malcolm decided that this planet wasn't the ideal place for him, after all.

* * *

 

After spending too much time in the hot and sandy desert, Malcolm enjoyed the sight of trees and green parks on their flight to the Health Center. The lush, abundant greenery of the garden areas still surprised him. A distinct feeling told him that something was wrong but he couldn't put a finger on it. The parks below were beautiful, and very peaceful. He saw children at play, a young couple walking hand in hand, it looked just about perfect. Still, something was missing. But what?

Malcolm was distracted from his thoughts when he noticed Jeren looking at him with interest, almost staring at him. He gave the young doctor a questioning look, and Jeren lowered his eyes, obviously embarrassed.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to stare at you. But I've never seen someone with so many hairs on his face."

Surprised, Malcolm passed his hand over his five day old beard. "You don't grow beards?"

Jeren shook his head, smiling. Malcolm grinned as well. Now he knew why the man had such a 'babyface'.

"I would love to get rid of it again", he said. "Do you think we could drop by at our shuttle? I'd like to get a few things for Trip and me."

"Do you know where you left it?"

"No. Not exactly. To be precise, not at all. Things happened so fast that we forgot to take a scanner with us. Or any other pieces of equipment."

"It shouldn't be a problem to find out, though," Jeren told him. "There wasn't too much work on my schedule for today, anyway. I'd probably be spending most of the day in the laboratory to perform some examinations of your blood. In the afternoon we can take a little trip to your shuttle. I must admit I'm very curious to see it."

Jeren landed the flitter on the huge parking-lot behind the health center. He asked Malcolm to wait while he talked to the elderly secretary at the entrance. She smiled at Malcolm when they passed her desk. Jeren took him to the same room where he and Trip had been staying the day before, told him to sit down on one of the beds, and proceeded to unwrap the bandages. Although his hands didn't look quite back to normal yet, they were in a much better shape than the last time Malcolm had seen them with the bandages off. The burns had healed, leaving a delicate pink skin where the charred places had been. Jeren ran a scanner over them and nodded in contentment. He asked Malcolm to roll up his sleeves while he busied himself preparing a somewhat murky liquid. He poured it in a deep bowl which he put in front of the lieutenant. "Please put your hands in this."

Suspiciously, Malcolm peered down at the liquid which reminded him of chicken-broth. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing special. It will remove the flesh from your bones so we'll be able to reconstruct your hands from scratch."

"What?" Malcolm, who had been about to stick his hands into the murky liquid, pulled them back so abruptly that Jeren had to grab the bowl before it toppled off the bed.

Jeren burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, Malcolm. I couldn't resist. I was just teasing. Don't worry, you already had your hands in this stuff yesterday. It helps regenerate your skin and nerves. Your hands are healing very well. Another half an hour should be sufficient to make them as good as new.

Malcolm still wasn't convinced. Frowning suspiciously, he looked from the fluid to Jeren and back at the bowl. Laughing, the doctor dipped his finger into the liquid to show him that the contact wasn't going to have any unpleasant consequences. "Really, it was only a joke."

"You really had me going there." Malcolm smiled sourly. "You're almost as good as Trip."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Jeren looked at his assistant who entered the room at this moment. "Kenan. It's good you're here."

"Good morning. Sorry for being late." Kenan nodded at Malcolm. "How are your hands?"

"Much better, thank you."

Kenan threw a glance at Malcolm's hands, then gave Jeren an appreciative nod. "Good work."

"Thanks. I'd like to take a full scan when Malcolm is finished." Jeren looked at the lieutenant. "Is that okay with you? I've already taken a scan of Trip yesterday but I would like to have one of you as well."

When Malcolm nodded his agreement Jeren turned back to Kenan. "Would you mind taking care of that? And I'd appreciate if you dealt with the patients for today. I have a lot of work to do in the lab." He paused. "You can, of course, call me if we get any more interesting cases like yesterday."

"I doubt we'll be getting any aliens today." Kenan threw Malcolm an apologizing side-glance. "And if so, I'll tell you at once."

Jeren and Kenan both tended to their work, leaving Malcolm alone with his thoughts. Malcolm appreciated having some time to think. Everything had been happening so fast lately, and he hadn't really gotten used to the new circumstances yet. It felt good to just switch off once in a while, and simply relax. He wriggled his fingers in the murky liquid, thinking about the previous day. Things had turned out alright, after all. They were going to survive until Enterprise arrived. And they'd met a very friendly and hospitable people. It could have been much worse. However, Malcolm Reed, security chief of Enterprise was still worried, paranoia being a part of his job. He couldn't seem to get rid of this nagging feeling at the back of his head. The feeling that something on this planet was wrong. But he couldn't believe that Jeren or Erianna meant them any harm. Both of them had welcomed them with open arms and had been treating them like friends from the very first moment. And Jeren had even healed his hands which was nothing short of a miracle, given their former condition. Malcolm moved his fingers and noticed happily that the feeling was returning into the tops. To be quite honest, he hadn't really believed that the doctor could save his hands. Deep down, he had already accepted the idea of being forced to spend the rest of his live without them. If worse came to worse, Malcolm had secretly been afraid he was going to have to leave Enterprise and find a job back on Earth where artificial hands wouldn't be a problem. Jeren had, in a way, given him back his life, and therefore deserved to be trusted.

Malcolm looked up when Jeren entered the room. The doctor handed him a towel and scanned his hands, then nodded in satisfaction. "They're as good as new. How do they feel?"

Malcolm moved his fingers. "Wonderful." He couldn't suppress a silly grin as he looked at his hands. They had regained their normal color and looked healthy and strong. And they felt that way, too. "I don't know what to say. A simple thank you doesn't seem quite enough."

"But it is enough. You're welcome." Jeren answered his grin and put the fluid aside just when Kenan entered with another bowl. "Thank you, Kenan." Jeren took the bowl and handed it to Malcolm. Inside there was a slimy milk-like substance of a slightly yellowish color. Malcolm threw it a doubtful look.

"Your skin is still very dehydrated," Jeren explained. "This should help you regain enough moisture. You should apply it to your whole body.

Malcolm grimaced. "Nothing in there to tear my skin apart?"

Jeren chuckled. "No, don't worry. Of course not. We'll leave you alone for a while so you can take care of yourself. I'm nearly finished and I guess we can leave soon. I'll ask our secretary to contact the couple that brought you here. They were supposed to leave their address with her. She can ask them about the coordinates of your shuttle."

"I can do that," Kenan offered.

"Thank you Kenan, but that isn't necessary. Sista can handle this. It's her job." Jeren went over to the comm. system and asked the secretary to get the information he needed.

Throwing a brief glance at Kenan, Malcolm sensed a certain tension between the two men. When Kenan looked at Jeren, his expression was thoughtful, and somehow hurt. But then, Malcolm couldn't be sure of that.

* * *

 

Trip drifted in and out of consciousness, confused dreams torturing his sleep.

He was itching all over but wasn't able to scratch. He couldn't move at all. Jon was holding him, carrying him through an endless desert, and he lay in his arms like a lifeless doll, his arms and legs dangling uncontrollably.

"Don't worry," Jon said. "I'll take care of you."

The image changed. Trip found himself in Starfleet's Head Quarters. Perched in his wheelchair, he sat in front of Admiral Forrest who was looking at him with a worried frown. "I'm sorry, Commander," he told him. "But in this condition you're of no use to Starfleet. We don't need an officer who collapses every time he puts a little strain on his body. I hope you understand this. The risk is just too great. It would be best for you to resign your commission." The admiral stood and laid his hand on Trip's shoulder in a patronizing way. "Why don't you go to a nice sanatorium for the rest of your life? There're people there who can take care of you. You'll be in good hands."

Trip tried to answer when he suddenly found himself lying on a cold metal table. Phlox stood beside him and told him with a cheerful grin that he was going to amputate his arms and legs. "They're of no use to you, Commander," he said. "And that way we can at least put a stop to the trembling."

Trip tried to jump off the table but found himself unable to do so. He wasn't restrained but he still couldn't move, couldn't make sound. Eyes wide open with fear, he stared at the sharp scalpel that approached his skin. He couldn't allow this. Stop it! In wild panic he threw his head from side to side. He felt Phlox's hand on his forehead, trying to keep him calm.

But this hand was warm and soft. It wasn't Phlox's. A kind voice was talking to him but he wasn't able to understand a single word. But the touch broke through his nightmare. With great effort he opened his eyes and looked straight into Erianna's smiling face. She said something but the words had no meaning to him. They were a mix of various strange sounding syllables. Her actions didn't seem threatening, however. She slid a hand under his head and supported him while holding a glass to his lips. It contained the same milky substance Jeren had given them the day before. Trip swallowed obediently, his drained body seeming to fill with new energy with every sip he took.

"Thanks," he muttered sleepily when Erianna let his head slide back onto the pillow. He started to doze off again, but then noticed that Erianna had pulled back the sheets and was starting to wash his sweaty body with a soft sponge. It was an embarrassing situation, but he was too tired to feel that way. And besides, the sensation was a very pleasurable one. The wetness on his dehydrated skin and her soft hands running over his body allowed him to relax. Trip suddenly realized it wasn't only one pair of hands touching him, but two. He heard two voices as well, talking softly to each other so as not to disturb him. Trip felt a hand running over his stubbly cheek and heard a chuckle. He forced himself to open his eyes a little and behind a blurry haze he saw a young woman gently smiling down at him. She said something he couldn't understand and for a moment he didn't know whether he was awake or dreaming again. The two women carefully turned him on his stomach and proceeded to wash his back as well. After that they began spreading a substance on his body, some sort of lotion that felt both cool and pleasant. His skin absorbed the fluid like a sponge and the dry itching subsided. He was turned on his side very gently and someone pulled the sheet up to his shoulders. The last thing he felt was a soft kiss on his cheek but he wasn't sure whether it was real or whether he was hallucinating. In any case his dreams were a lot more pleasant afterwards.

* * *

 

Malcolm had been lying in the scan unit for at least half an hour, waiting for the doctors to finish their examination. Finally, Kenan seemed to be satisfied with the results. Jeren checked the scan data. "Okay," he said. "We're done here."

The comm. beeped. "Jeren, there's an incoming call," the secretary told him.

"We're about to leave, Sista. Kenan can handle this."

"It's the Governor, Jeren."

"Damn," Jeren cursed. He threw a questioning look at Kenan who only shrugged.

"Your governor?" Malcolm asked curiously. "What could he want from you?"

Jeren smirked sourly. He knew Malcolm was already guessing right about the governor's request.

Sighing heavily, he asked Sista to put the call through.

"Greetings, Governor Tasur. Is there something I can for you?"

"I've heard you've been treating two alien visitors yesterday. Why don't you inform me about such important events?" The governor's voice was friendly and in spite of the words didn't sound reproachful. Jeren, however, frowned slightly.

"I apologize, Governor. I haven't had the time to finish my report yet. Treating the aliens' injuries took all my time."

"Are they from Menaos or from Alkira?"

"Neither, Governor. They come from a planet named Earth."

"That sounds very interesting. We haven't had visitors from other systems yet. Are they responding well to your treatment?"

"One of them had rather bad burns on his hands, but I was able to restore the skin completely. The other one suffers from a rather serious leg injury. At the moment he's not able to walk. I guess it'll take about two or three more days until he's fully recovered."

Malcolm looked at Jeren with astonishment. He didn't like the dark look on the man's face. And Jeren was obviously telling lies about Trip.

"Where are they now?" the governor asked.

"They're staying at my house. My sister is taking care of them."

"I would like to meet them. It's my duty as the provincial leader to welcome new guests on our planet. I'd be happy to welcome them in my palace. I'll send my flitter to pick them up in about an hour."

"Sorry, Governor Tasur, but I must decline that offer. As I said one of them can't walk. I want to keep him under medical observation to make sure his injuries are healing well. The healing process takes more time than it would be the case with a Renelan person, and it's my duty as his doctor to take care of him. I wouldn't advise a transport before tomorrow afternoon."

"Very well, Jeren. Tomorrow afternoon it is. Please give my regards to our guests."

"I'll let them know. Thank you, Governor."

Sighing, Jeren ended the call and turned to Malcolm.

"So that was your Head of State?" the lieutenant asked curiously.

"There are eight of them," Jeren explained. "One for each province."

"So why did you lie to your superior?"

The corners of Jeren's mouth were twitching. "Did I?"

"Trip's legs are paralyzed, not injured. And I doubt his condition will improve so that he'll be able to walk in a few days. Why didn't you tell your governor the truth?"

"It was less complicated without the medical details."

"You said it wasn't going to be long until Trip's fully recovered. Why did you tell the governor we couldn't come until tomorrow afternoon?"

"Because I couldn't postpone it further without being rude. You told me there's a possibility that your ship will arrive today or tomorrow. Maybe you'll be already gone when the governor comes to pick you up."

"But leaving this planet without accepting his invitation would be rude. We have to at least introduce ourselves."

"I guess you're right. It's a simple act of courtesy." Jeren sighed. "But I'd be feeling better if your captain could accompany you and then take you back to your ship afterwards." Jeren took his disc out of the computer and looked around the room. "Are you ready, Malcolm? Time to go."

* * *

 

During the flight Malcolm's thoughts kept returning to Jeren's conversation with the governor. Perhaps it was just his paranoia again, but he couldn't get rid of the distinct feeling that something wasn't right. But what? Only because Jeren wasn't being quite honest about Trip's condition it didn't automatically mean that something was awry. Perhaps it was just that Jeren didn't like his governor very much. It had been clearly visible on his face when he had been talking to the man.

Malcolm looked out the window and saw that they had left the town and were now passing huge fields in various shades of yellow and green.

"How long will it take us to get there?" he asked.

"About forty minutes. I've got the coordinates where we should find your shuttle."

"Thanks for taking me there."

"Don't mention it. I'm very interested to see your shuttle. I hope you'll give me a tour."

Malcolm snorted. "Oh yeah. Just wait until you see it, you might have second thoughts about that tour." He hesitated. "Jeren?"

"Hm?"

"What you've said about these two or three days - it was a lie, wasn't it?"

Jeren sighed. "I embellished the facts a little bit."

"So Trip isn't going to be able to walk again in a few days?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"Can't you help him?"

"The cure is already in his body. I can't speed up the healing process." Jeren threw a thoughtful glance at Malcolm. "You're very worried about him, aren't you?"

"Guess I am."

"Why? Is there a reason except that you're good friends?"

"The relapse he suffered aboard the shuttle was my fault," Malcolm admitted hesitantly. "This time it was so bad that he couldn't move at all for several hours."

"Why do you think it's your fault?"

"When I went to look for water - of course I didn't find any - I collapsed because of the heat only half a kilometer away from the shuttle. Trip came for me. He hauled me all the way through the desert with these paralyzed legs. I still don't know how he managed it, I guess he tied me to his back. Anyway, he overexerted himself so much that he suffered this relapse."

"And you blame yourself?"

"Of course I do. It happened because of my carelessness. It was already the second time since he was first infected that he wasn't able to move at all. Every time I see him like that it makes me feel so helpless. When it happened the first time, back on Enterprise, I was able to take care of him, help him so he didn't have to face it all on his own. But in the shuttle, with these hands, I couldn't do a thing to help him. And on top of everything else there were these horrible spasms torturing him. It was so awful." Malcolm wondered why he was telling Jeren about this. Usually it wasn't his way to talk to strangers about his personal feelings, but the young doctor had something trustworthy about him that made it easy to open up to him.

"Malcolm, you must not blame yourself for what happened," Jeren told him gently. "I'm sure Trip would tell you the same."

"Do you know what makes it even worse?" Malcolm looked in Jeren's face and had to blink when he felt a burning sensation behind his lids. Embarrassed, he drew a furtive hand across his eyes. "He knew about it. He knew precisely what was going to happen to him. The symptoms were unmistakable. But he took the risk without thinking of his health. Because of me. He couldn't hope for a recovery after only a few hours of sleep. He knew there were chances he would stay paralyzed for the rest of his life."

"I think you can be proud of this, Malcolm."

"Proud? Why should I be proud when my best friend sacrifices his health for me?"

"Because he thought you're worth it."

Malcolm Reed fell silent.

* * *

 

When they had arrived at the clearing, Jeren parked the flitter beside the shuttle, throwing an approving look at his surroundings. "It's a good place to hide your shuttle. Without the coordinates no one would be able to find it." He looked over the damaged shuttle with its still open hatch. Nothing had changed since they had left it the day before.

"How did you keep this wreck together?" he asked. "Spittle?"

"In the end we wouldn't have had any left," Malcolm smiled ironically. He was ashamed of the poor state the shuttle was in, but still proud of the fact that despite its bad condition they had been able to reach their destination. "Just wait until you see the inside."

Jeren examined the broken wing and the destroyed window. "Trip piloted this for more than seven hours without a break?"

"Yes, he had to, because I was in no condition to take the helm." Again, Malcolm felt a nagging feeling of guilt because he hadn't been able to help Trip. He could see on Jeren's face that the doctor knew very well what Trip had done.

"Now I know why he was so exhausted." Thoughtfully, Jeren regarded the shuttle, his thoughts seeming to be far away. "Can you tell me how long exactly Trip wasn't able to move at all?" he then asked. "I mean back on your ship."

Malcolm considered. "When the paralysis got worse it took about 50 hours until his respiratory system shut down completely. He was hooked up to life support for 26 hours and when his condition improved he still needed another two days until he was able to move his head again. Then, however, his recovery progressed rather quickly. Ten days later he was able to stand up again and do his exercises on the parallel bars."

Jeren smiled. "I'm sure he made great efforts to do so."

"You bet," Malcolm said. "Trip can be so stubborn. It's impossible to talk him out of an idea that he got into his head. I believe he would have been able to walk again within a few days if the relapse hadn't stopped him."

"I see." Jeren nodded thoughtfully, then smiled. "Well, let's not just stand around here. You promised me a tour."

Malcolm gestured at the shuttle hatch. "Come on. But be warned. We weren't expecting any visitors, and I'm afraid we've forgotten to clean up the mess."

"Don't worry." Jeren smiled again.

Malcolm ducked through the shuttle hatch and despite Jeren's words shrank back when he saw the mess. He hadn't thought it would be quite that bad.

Jeren looked around. "Now I can imagine what you went through during the last days." He crouched down next to a bulkhead and examined the patched up conduits Trip had jury-rigged to repair the shuttle.

In the meantime, Malcolm gathered up everything he thought would be of use. It took him a few minutes to find all the things he needed: the second UT and the remains of the communicator Trip had shattered on the bulkhead, the intact scanner and of course the phase pistols. Quickly, he checked Trip's toolbox to see if it contained all the necessary equipment and then started to look for some of their personal items.

"What's that?" Jeren asked, pointing at something Malcolm was stuffing into his bag.

"That? A razor." Malcolm smiled. Of course Jeren had never seen such a thing. "We use it to remove our beards." Malcolm ran a hand over his stubbly chin. "We need to do that every once in a while."

"So this is not your normal appearance?" Jeren threw an interested glance at Malcolm's stubble.

"Not necessarily. Normally every man can decide whether he wants to wear a beard or not, but aboard a starship there are more stringent rules about these things."

"The Enterprise." Jeren nodded. "Do you think they'll be here soon?"

"I know that the captain won't stop searching for us. I'm sure he's worrying a lot about Trip. He's his best friend."

"I thought you were Trip's best friend."

"Hm." Malcolm considered. "Perhaps he's got two best friends."

Jeren nodded. "He's a lucky man."

Malcolm looked at him. "I'm sure you have friends as well."

"Yes, of course. I know a lot of people, I even call some of them friends. But I don't know whether one of them would be willing to risk his life and health to save me. Like Trip did for you. Like you would do for Trip. And, if I got that right, already did when you burnt your hands."

"I only did my job. I told you, as security officer I'm responsible for the welfare of my crew."

"Oh come on, Malcolm."

Malcolm took a step back. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm saying that even the best security officer isn't expected to sacrifice his life for his crew. Don't go using your job as an excuse. Why don't you admit that you have a friend who's willing to make such sacrifices for you? Trip considers you a friend who is worth such a sacrifice, and you'd do exactly the same thing for him. This kind of friendship is something to be proud of. I know that you don't like talking about your feelings, but I do think you can be proud, Malcolm."

Malcolm's jaw dropped. He stared at Jeren, startled into silence by the man's words. He didn't know what to say to this man he'd only known for two days and who could already look into his deepest soul like few people had done before.


	16. Chapter 16

"How's Trip?" Malcolm asked when he entered the room. He knew he was being rude, but Erianna only smiled.

"Hi Malcolm. He's fine, woke up half an hour before. I believe he would like to see you."

Malcolm knocked on the door before he entered the bedroom.

"Hi Malcolm."

"Trip, how are you?" Malcolm smiled. His friend looked a lot better than in the morning.

"I haven't felt so good since my last relapse. I don't know what Jeren's given me to knock me out but it looks like it's done a lot of good." Trip looked at Malcolm, his eyes wide. "Your hands are healed," he noticed.

"Yes." Malcolm smiled, showing Trip both his hands. "Jeren worked a miracle."

"That's awesome." Trip was truly happy for Malcolm.

Jeren appeared in the doorframe, scanner in hand. Looking at the results after a minute, he smiled. "You've recovered nicely, Trip. You can get up now, but don't overdo it. Would you like me to stay here and help you?"

Questioningly, Trip looked at Malcolm and shook his head. "No, thank you, I guess I'll try on my own. And Malcolm's here, too, if I do need a hand."

"Okay." Jeren nodded at Malcolm. "I think you'd both enjoy a shower."

"Indeed." Malcolm nodded. "Can we use as much water as we want? On a dry planet like this, your resources must be limited."

"We hardly ever get to that point," Jeren explained. "It's true, we live in one of the driest areas on Renelan, but we are also very well organized. When our water runs short we get supplies from the inner provinces. They have more water than they actually need. I can tell you more about our world after dinner. Now, I'll leave you to your shower, but call me when you're ready. It's better if I carry Trip." Jeren left the room.

Trip propped himself up on his elbows. "Did you hear that, Malcolm? A shower. Sounds great, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does, and look what I've brought from the shuttle." Malcolm showed Trip the razor.

"Great idea. So you went to the shuttle?"

"Yeah and I've found everything we need. The scanner, the communicators, the second translator, your tools and I've also brought the weapons with me."

"The weapons? What for? I mean, there's not really anythin' to shoot at around here. D'you think you'll need them?"

"I don't know. But I feel better if I have them handy. Leaving them in the shuttle didn't seem right. I can stow them away in a drawer."

"That would be for the best. I don't know if Erianna would like to have weapons in her house." Trip shoved his feet to the floor and slid from the bed.

"Do you need any help?" Malcolm asked.

"No, I'll manage. It's about time I find my feet again." Trip smiled and began to pull himself over to the bathroom. "But I might need your help to get into the shower."

"No problem."

* * *

 

With his eyes closed, Trip enjoyed the water beating down on him. It seemed to wash away not only the sweat and dirt, but also the exhaustion and the fear he had endured during the last days. He relished the feeling of a clean and fresh skin. He felt good, like most of his strength had returned. He was, of course, not as strong as he had been before his relapse, but he could move without breaking out in a sweat and his muscles beginning to ache. Without having to fear the consequences of every single movement. He just felt good.

Sighing, he shut off the water. He could have stayed here for hours, but now it was Malcolm's turn. Trip was sure the lieutenant was just as eager to get into the shower as he had been.

Trip called, and a moment later Malcolm entered the bathroom. In the meantime he had shaved, and wore only a towel around his hips.

"Is there any water left, Commander?" he teased. "Or will they have to declare a state of emergency because you used up the last of their supplies?" He handed Trip a towel and hoisted him out of the slippery shower. "Do you manage or should I help you?"

"You go and get your shower, Malcolm. I'll be fine."

Trip left the bathroom and spotted his clothes on a chair. Aboard Enterprise, he had managed to dress himself even though he hadn't been able to move his legs, and he was sure that he was going to manage now as well. It wasn't an easy task, but when Malcolm came out of the bathroom, Trip sat on the chair in front of the mirror, fully dressed and shaving. Malcolm smiled at him and turned around to get dressed as well. Erianna had provided him with a pair of loose pants and a t-shirt as so he wouldn't have to wear his uniform. The clothes were somewhat baggy and Malcolm suspected that they belonged to Jeren. Quickly, he got dressed and with a brief glance at Trip who was almost done he went outside to look for Jeren.

Malcolm stopped in his tracks when he became aware of agitated voices talking nearby. Jeren was arguing with his sister. Malcolm was about to retreat discreetly when he caught some of Jeren's words.

"You can't do that," Jeren said. "Not before they're gone. They trust us and you can't just betray that trust."

"But don't you understand what this may mean to us?" Erianna answered insistently.

"Of course I do. But don't you see that you're going to endanger them? We have to wait, Erianna. At least until their ship picks them up."

Malcolm cleared his throat. Erianna whirled around, and looked uncomfortably to the floor when she saw him standing in the doorway. Jeren, however, smiled at him. "Erianna would like to tell the whole world about you," he explained. "But I think being paraded around in our governor's palace will be enough. You don't need the other seven inviting you to dinner as well."

Malcolm nodded, still skeptical. Jeren sounded convincing, but hadn't he said something about danger? He looked at Erianna who was wearing her usual friendly smile again. "Dinner is ready," she told him. "Are you done yet?"

Malcolm decided to postpone his questions. It didn't matter what danger Jeren had been talking about; he knew they were safe in this place. Perhaps they could have a talk about the subject later on.

He nodded to Jeren. "Yes, we're done. If you don't mind, I think Trip's waiting for you to get him."

Erianna asked Malcolm to sit down. "Do the clothes fit alright?" she asked kindly.

"Somewhat big for me," Malcolm admitted. "But they're a lot more comfortable than my uniform."

"Speaking of which, why doesn't Trip wear a uniform? Him being a commander and all."

Malcolm chuckled. "You better ask him that." He watched Jeren carry Trip into the room and set him down on a chair. Trip was clearly feeling uncomfortable, being carried in another man's arms like a child.

"Do you think you could get me a wheelchair?" he asked.

"What's that?" Jeren wanted to know.

Trip and Malcolm exchanged surprised glances. A physician who didn't know what a wheelchair was?

"A chair equipped with wheels on its legs," Malcolm explained. "For people who can't walk to get from one place to another. What do the handicapped people on this planet use for transportation?"

"There are no handicapped people on this planet," Jeren said earnestly.

Trip raised his eyebrows at him. "None at all? I can imagine your medicine is advanced enough to heal all sorts of diseases, but what about old people? Those who are too weak to walk? Or have illnesses which affect their muscles? Aren't there any of those either?"

"No, there aren't." Jeren, clearly feeling uncomfortably with the subject, shook his head and quickly got up to help Erianna serve the dinner. It was some sort of vegetable casserole, and the first real food Trip and Malcolm had seen since their crash. The aroma by itself made their mouths water.

"Enjoy your meal." Erianna ladled generous portions onto their plates.

"But eat slowly," Jeren reminded them and fell silent for a while, watching the two men eat. "You seem to be feeling better, Trip," he said then.

"Yeah, you worked a real miracle." A little embarrassed, Trip looked at Erianna. "Thanks for takin' care of me," he mumbled.

"You're welcome." Sheepishly, Erianna looked at her plate. "I didn't know you had noticed. You were sleeping quite deeply."

"Yeah, I wasn't quite conscious most of the time. But I noticed you were there, and you weren't alone, I think."

"No, my friend Arissa had just dropped by for a visit. She gave me a hand. She was glad to help," Erianna added when she saw Trip's embarrassed expression. "I hope you don't mind. We should have asked you first but you weren't really responsive at the time."

"It's okay," Trip muttered, deciding to drop the subject. He turned to Jeren. "If your medicine is that advanced, is there somethin' you could do so that I'd be able to walk again, or at least to move my legs? Please don't get me wrong, you've done so much for us already and I'm grateful, but..."

"I understand, Trip." Jeren laid his fork on the table. "I can imagine how frustrating it must be to be carried around all the time. I would love to help you, but unfortunately, I can't."

Trip stared at his plate. "I thought so."

"You have to be patient," Jeren continued. "You'll be okay."

"Really?" Trip looked up, skeptically.

"Really, trust me. I ran some tests on your blood samples today, and it was very interesting. Fascinating, how this cure seems to work." A smile appeared on the doctor's face.

"Would you mind letting us in on your discoveries?" Erianna asked with her eyebrows raised.

Jeren's eyes came to rest on Trip. "Look, the poison you were injected with and the cure are both very powerful substances. And now they're both fighting against each other inside your body. The cure is just a little bit stronger than the poison, because otherwise the side effects would have you flat on your back most of the time. Unfortunately, the poison has taken hold of your muscles, and it's very persistent. The problem is, every time you exhaust yourself you're weakening the cure at the same time, and the poison gets stronger again. In fact your body is fighting both of the substances, since they're both alien elements to your metabolism. That's what causes your weariness and, if the cure gets weaker, the trembling of your muscles and the cramps."

"The cramps?" Trip licked his lips, thinking. "As far as I remember, they started after our doc injected me with the cure. It wasn't so bad in the beginnin', but it got worse durin' the followin' hours. Phlox told me it was because I'd been lyin' motionless for such a long time, but you're sayin' it may have been the cure that started to take effect?"

Jeren tilted his head to one side. "That's difficult to tell. Your doctor could be right, but actually I believe it was indeed the cure starting to take effect."

"I don't believe it." Malcolm took a sharp breath. "So all the time we were waiting desperately for an improvement, it was right before our eyes and we just didn't recognize it? Phlox almost shut off the respirator because he thought the cure wouldn't work."

"It's very well possible, Malcolm, that the first encounter of the two substances caused that reaction."

"But what does that mean for me?" Trip wanted to know. "You said every exertion would weaken the cure and let the poison get stronger. Are you tellin' me that I should do nothin' at all, that it would be best for me to lie down in bed and try not to move at all?"

"To help the cure work it would actually be best if you did. But unfortunately moving your muscles is the only way for your system to get rid of the poison."

"But you just told me..."

"I know it's complicated. It's sort of a tightrope walk. The cure causes your muscles to absorb the poison and then get rid of it by moving. But physical stress, in turn, affects the cure. So every time you overexert yourself the effect will result in the opposite. What you need to do is keep your muscles moving but not too much so as not to weaken the cure."

"How'm I supposed to do this?"

"Your weariness is a very good indicator of when the strain is becoming too much. You get tired when your body fails to keep the two substances in balance. As soon as you notice yourself getting tired you should stop whatever you're doing and rest until the weariness subsides again."

"It's that simple?"

"Yes, it's that simple."

"And do you think I'll be able to walk again?"

"Of course. The poison has spread mostly in your legs. It hasn't been in your upper body long enough to get a hold of it. Because of that the paralyzing effect in this part of your body has always been only temporary and subsided again when you rested for a while. But I'm quite sure you haven't done any exercises during the last days to strengthen the muscles in your legs."

"That's right. I didn't really have the time for exercises."

"You have to start them again, otherwise your condition will not improve."

"But if I overexert myself again..." Trip searched for words, then looked at Jeren, swallowing hard. "I'm just afraid I'll suffer a relapse every time I put a little strain on my body," he finally admitted. "If this doesn't get better, I'll be a fragile wreck for the rest of my life." From the corner of his eyes Trip saw Malcolm's surprised expression but he didn't dare to look at his friend right now.

Jeren ran his hand over his forehead. "I understand. The process sounds rather frightening, and you've been through a lot. It's natural that you're feeling nervous about it. But the cure will fight its way through in the end, helping your muscles absorb the poison. Once the poison's gone it won't come back."

"You know that for sure?"

"Yes, my tests are absolutely reliable. You can trust me."

Trip looked into Jeren's face. He had known this man for only two days now and he already seemed so familiar. He trusted him. If Jeren said he didn't have to fear for his health then Trip knew he could believe him. He felt relief wash over him at the idea of getting his health back, and allowed himself to relax.

"And I'm really gonna be okay?" he asked again, just to be sure. "There'll be no side effects or long-term consequences?"

"No, you're really going to be okay. There can't be any long-term consequences if the poison isn't there anymore."

"And the cure?"

"Will also be absorbed by your muscles. It'll take only a few weeks and no one will be able to detect any traces of the substances after that."

"So it's only a matter of time until I'm fit again? And I won't have to be afraid of breakin' down with every little effort?"

Jeren smiled broadly. "Believe me, Trip."

Smiling as well, Erianna rested her hand on Trip's arm. "That is good news, Trip."

"Yes, it is." Trip leaned back, relieved. "To be honest, this has been troublin' me ever since my first relapse. I couldn't stop thinkin' about it, and couldn't even imagine a future." He looked at Jeren. "Thanks. You took a great weight off my mind."

"I would like to speed up your healing process, Trip, but this is something your body will have to do on its own. The only thing I could do would be helping you with your exercises. But to be honest, I don't have any experience with this kind of physical therapy."

"I do," Malcolm interrupted, looking at Trip with a strange expression in his eyes. "We used to do most of your exercises together, didn't we, Commander?"

Trip threw Malcolm a bemused look. Something in his friend's voice didn't sound right; Malcolm seemed to be annoyed at something. Supposedly with him, but Trip couldn't think of any reason why Malcolm should be angry. Perhaps changing the subject would distract him.

"Tell us somethin' about Renelan," he said to Jeren and Erianna. "I'd like to know a little more about the world we're stranded on."

"With pleasure." Jeren smiled. "Renelan is the third of eight planets in a solar system with two suns..."

"I think I've heard that one before," Trip interjected with an ironic smile.

"You would have been better off if you had chosen Menaos or Alkira for your landing," Jeren said. "Our planet is closest to the second sun, and so, of course, has the hottest climate. The second sun's heat doesn't really have any effect on the other two inhabitated worlds."

"So they have a different climate?"

"A rather moderate one. Neither of the planets has any extreme temperatures, or deserts. We know that because some of their merchants used to visit our world. Unfortunately, Governor Tasur had some disagreements with some of them and now they're not only avoiding our province, but apparently the whole planet. We ourselves don't have any space travel, our scientists aren't very interested in space. So naturally, we were always very interested in what the merchants told us about outer space. They told us about an anomaly that would have swallowed Renelan a long time ago if not for the two suns holding it in some sort of gravimetric balance." He smiled apologetically. "Some of us think that's plain nonsense. Fairytales told by spacemen who want to show off."

"But they're right." The corners of Trip's mouth twitched as he glanced at Malcolm. "This anomaly actually exists. And it's true that Renelan is dangerously close to it. The second sun parches your planet but at the same time it saves it by keepin' the anomaly stable."

"How do you know this?" Erianna frowned.

"Astronomy was an important part of our trainin' at the Starfleet Academy. And we're only here because our shuttle's been pulled through the anomaly."

"Through the anomaly?" Erianna's voice grew excited. "I, for one, never thought it was a fairytale. So you're saying it's real? And you could get through it?"

"It wasn't that easy. In fact we had never intended to go through it," Malcolm answered sourly. "We were pulled in at one end and spit out at the other."

"Really? That's incredible." In her excitement Erianna, whose hand still was resting on Trip's arm, tightened her fingers. Realizing what she was doing she let go immediately, throwing him an apologizing look. Trip smiled.

"They also told us about a huge asteroid field around the anomaly," Erianna continued. "Have you seen this as well?"

Jeren raised his head, a sudden realization showing in his eyes. "You were in the middle of it, am I right? That's the reason why your shuttle looks like a battered tin can. That was the dangerous situation when Malcolm saved you, wasn't it?"

"Exactly." Trip nodded. "All the EPS-conduits were explodin' with the asteroids' impacts and the helm was on fire. Conveniently, I lost consciousness right then and left Malcolm to deal with the burnin' helm console."

"That wasn't your fault," Malcolm said fiercely.

Placatingly, Jeren held up his hands. "I thought you two wanted to know something about Renelan. Looks like we're still talking about you."

Erianna chuckled and stood up to refill their glasses and remove the plates.

"Please," she said when Jeren and Malcolm got up to help her. "Don't bother. Let Jeren talk about Renelan. He loves to do so."

Jeren feigned offence, but at the same time his eyes were fond when he looked at Erianna. "Big sisters," he muttered. Then he turned to Trip and Malcolm. "Well, as I said, Renelan's inhabited area is about 800 kilometers in diameter. The area is divided in eight provinces, three in the middle and five others surrounding them. The outer provinces have an average temperature of 25 degrees, and so we live mostly off agriculture. We and our neighbor province have about four harvests a year, the others maybe five or even six."

"Why's that?"

"We're the southern provinces. Once a year the second sun appears for approximately ten days and heats up the area. We'll get temperatures of more than 45 degrees during this time of the year. If the corn isn't harvested until then it will wither on the fields. Our whole life comes to a halt during that period of heat. People hide in their houses, keeping the shutters closed and turning on the air conditioning, hoping for these days to go by very quickly. It's only ten days, but they usually cost us at least one crop. The other provinces don't need to calculate their sowings so exactly, they can sow and harvest all year round. If our farmers sow too late they'll lose the crop because of the heat and if they sow too early there's too much time in between because they can't get back to work until the hot period is over."

"And the middle provinces?"

"Most of the planet's industry is settled there. They have a lot of rain and as a consequence most of the water. We have a very good system of pipelines to bring the water from the inner to the outer provinces whenever it's needed."

"Perfect logistics."

"We couldn't do without. It's the only way we manage to survive."

Trip nodded, impressed by the advanced engineering that was necessary to keep such a complex supply network up to date and running. Suddenly, he caught himself yawning for the second time and sighed in frustration. "Hell, I've slept all day and I'm already feelin' tired again. And please don't tell me I'm exhaustin' myself by doin' no more than sittin' here and listenin' to you."

"Your body is still trying to find some sort of balance, Trip," Jeren explained. "You have overexerted yourself too often during the last days. Remember, there are two poisons fighting in your body, and it's no wonder you're exhausted. It would be best for you to go and lie down again. Perhaps Malcolm can help you with some exercises. By the way, did he tell you about the governor's inviting you to his palace?"

"No. Must have forgotten about it." Trip threw Malcolm a questioning look, his brows raised.

"We're invited to come to the governor's palace tomorrow," Malcolm said curtly, then raised a hand to cover a yawn himself. "I think I'm going to turn in as well, if you don't mind. It's been a long day."

"Of course." Jeren nodded understandingly. "You still need a lot of rest, too."

Jeren brought Trip to the guest room and carefully laid him down on the huge double-bed. "Is there anything else you need?" he asked.

"No, thanks for everythin'."

When Jeren was gone, Malcolm disappeared into the bathroom while Trip removed his shoes, socks and his t-shirt and then tried to get rid of his jeans. However, getting them on had been a lot easier than taking them off again turned out to be. His toes got caught in the fabric all the time. Trip was just trying to push the jeans over his left knee when Malcolm came back. He threw a brief glance at Trip and wordlessly grabbed the jeans at the legs, pulling them off with a jerk. He didn't bother to be careful and Trip had to use his arms to prevent himself from being dragged along. When his legs fell down to the bed again with a smack, he angrily looked up at Malcolm. He appreciated his help, but not like that.

"Okay, Lieutenant, what is it?" he said in an angry tone, and louder than he had intended to. "Spit it out."

"What?"

"What's botherin' you."

"Nothing." Malcolm grabbed Trip's right leg and bent it at the knee. "Try to push."

"I'm not doin' any exercises now, Malcolm."

"But Jeren said..."

"I don't give a shit what Jeren said. I want to know what's wrong. It started right after dinner and seems to be annoyin' the hell outta you. I can see it's somethin' to do with me, so why don't you just tell me about it?"

Malcolm didn't answer but Trip could see his shoulders stiffen. Stretching the leg in his hands, Malcolm pulled it up until Trip felt a searing pain in his hip.

"Malcolm," he cried, his face contorted with pain.

Malcolm let go of his leg. "I don't really know why you expect me to tell you anything, Commander. You don't either, do you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Trip asked, suspicion beginning to rise at the back of his mind.

Malcolm took the other leg, stretching and bending it. "Well, if you do have to know. After your relapse I thought you were depressed because you had realized this was going to slow down your recovery. After all you'd been through I didn't consider it unusual to get a little depressed, and tried to come up with something to cheer you up, help you over that moment of depression. But it wasn't just a moment - you were afraid. You were afraid you might never get better, and you never said anything about it to me. Damnit, Trip, I thought we were friends. Why couldn't you talk to me about it? Maybe I could have done something."

"Oh yeah? Phlox had no idea what to do, but you could've done somethin'?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Trip. You told Jeren about it, and I assume you told the captain as well, didn't you?" Malcolm gave Trip a questioning look.

Trip nodded hesitantly. He still had no idea why his friend would be so angry with him.

"Well, I don't really understand why you could tell them what you were afraid of, but you couldn't tell me."

Trip sighed, feeling anger well up in him. Malcolm should be the last one to blame him for being less than forthcoming about his private thoughts and emotions.

"You ain't of the talkative sort, either," he snapped. "Your own parents didn't even know what your favorite food was."

"But you do. And what's that got to do with this, anyway?"

"You don't talk about your feelings, either. You of all people should understand why I didn't want to talk about it."

"But that's exactly what you did." Malcolm let Trip's leg fall onto the bed, earning an angry look. "I suppose everyone aboard Enterprise knew, except me."

What was Malcolm thinking of him? Trip had already opened his mouth to give a harsh answer, but shut it again when someone knocked on the door. Timidly, Erianna peeked inside. "Are you arguing?"

Trip and Malcolm looked at each other and suddenly began to grin. "No," they said in unison.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to disturb you, but your discussion had become a little loud. I thought... Sorry, sleep well." She smiled sheepishly and closed the door.

Trip looked at the closed door. The interruption had helped him calm down and clear his thoughts. He patted the bed next to him. "C'mon Malcolm, sit down."

Malcolm, a stubborn expression on his face, stared straight ahead.

"C'mon Lieutenant, I'm not gonna make it an order." Trip grinned when Malcolm reluctantly sat down beside him. "If I didn't know better I'd think you're jealous."

"Jealous?" Malcolm startled. "Why would I be jealous?" He fell silent when all of a sudden he realized that Trip was right. Actually, he was jealous because Trip had told Jeren and the captain about his fears and hadn't said anything to him. He who considered Trip his best friend had been shut out, and it hurt his feelings. Deep down he could understand Trip, since he wasn't very comfortable with speaking about his feelings himself, and he couldn't blame Trip for doing the same. But the thought that Trip trusted the captain and even Jeren whom they had met only the day before more than him hurt him deeply.

Next to him, Trip let out a sigh. His eyes fixed on the ceiling, he began to speak. "Malcolm, that has nothin' to do with you. Or with our friendship. You gotta understand; I was so afraid I might never get better I could hardly think of anythin' else anymore. I was always thinkin' of how Starfleet would dismiss me from service, how nobody was gonna need me anymore, about everyone tiptoein' around me, about me bein' of no use to anyone. I even had a nightmare that Phlox had cut off my arms and legs, tellin' me I wasn't gonna need them anymore. I know I was only makin' it harder for myself and that it was my own fault I'd gotten so depressive, but maybe after my relapse I finally realized what I'd gone through durin' the last weeks. I don't know whether you can imagine how it feels to wait for your own death. When you hope for it to end because you can't bear it any longer. And suddenly they say that you're not gonna die and that you'll get completely healthy again. At first you don't even dare to believe it after all you've been through, but then, very slowly, you get up your hopes again. And then you get better, your health is improvin' every day and finally you believe that you're goin' to live. But then, suddenly, out of the blue, you suffer a relapse that takes you back to square one. Then you start thinkin' whether your condition is really improvin' or if it's just becomin' a constant up and down. Perhaps it won't harm you physically but it'd play havoc with your feelings. And then you become afraid. Afraid to fall asleep because you don't know what your body'll do to you durin' your sleep and you're afraid to wake up to find out. But you hide these fears deep inside you, because if you let them out, if you talk about them, then they'll come true."

Trip closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "I told the cap'n about it because he wouldn't let go. But I've never told him what I told you just now. And Jeren..." The corners of Trip's mouth twitched. "Malcolm, finally there was someone who was able to tell me what's happenin' to my body. He told me that there was no reason for me to be afraid, that I can forget about my fears. Starfleet won't have any reason to dismiss me, I won't have to leave Enterprise and I'll be able to do my job again. I just had to tell him what that means to me."

All the time, Trip had been staring at the ceiling, but now he looked at Malcolm. "Malcolm, you and the cap'n are the best friends I ever had. Without the both of you I never would've been able to go through the last weeks. You two were always there for me when I needed your help. You did a lot for me, and sometimes things that only few people would have done, friends or no. I hope you know that I've always appreciated your help, even if we didn't have a talk about all of this. But it wasn't only you I didn't want to talk to. Jon kept wheedlin', and so I finally told him, although I didn't really want to. I would've talked to you as well, but then we were sent on this mission and I didn't want to burden you with my problems. We had more important things to think about at the time."

Trip fell silent and looked at Malcolm, waiting. The lieutenant stared at his clenched hands in his lap. "I'm sorry, Trip," he said quietly. "I don't know what got into me. I guess you're right, maybe I was... jealous."

"Well, there's no need to be. I can count myself lucky to have two great friends like you and Jon. You're completely different but I'm always havin' a good time with either of you. And the fact that I've known the cap'n for a long time doesn't mean I trust him more than I trust you."

Malcolm nodded, but he wouldn't look up. He felt embarrassed, realizing that he had overreacted. Trip was right. Not to speak about one's feelings in some situations had nothing to do with their friendship. After all, he himself hadn't told Trip about his fears of losing his hands and this fear had been very similar to Trip's. Malcolm felt uncomfortable, thinking that his petty jealousy had forced Trip into this emotional confession.

Trip turned onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow, briefly resting a hand on Malcolm's arm. "You okay?" he asked.

Malcolm turned around, nodding. He tried to apologize for his behavior, but he couldn't find the right words. He cleared his throat. "You know what our friendship means to me?"

"It means the same to me."

"Thanks, Trip."

Surprised, Trip looked at him. "What for?"

"For crawling out into this bloody desert to save my arse, not thinking about what this would do to you. There are not many people who would have thought it was worth the trouble."

Trip looked at him for a long moment, then lay back down on the bed. "Mal, why don't you stop worryin' and call it a day," he said, pulling the covers up over himself. "Some sleep will do you good."


	17. Chapter 17

Trip was comfortably sitting at the table and looking at the communicator he'd been taking apart. Beside him Malcolm was checking the phase pistols. He had asked Erianna whether she would mind him working with weapons in her house but she had only shaken her head. On the contrary, she seemed to be very interested how the phasers worked and asked Malcolm to explain their different functions to her. She even begged him to let her try some shots. Hidden behind some bushes in the garden, Malcolm had arranged some target practice. Erianna had been very excited when after a few tries she managed to hit the target, blushing when Malcolm told her she had a very good aim. Now she was sitting at the other side of the table and watched Trip building an emergency signal with the two broken communicators.

"Your ship is scheduled to arrive today, isn't it?" she asked.

Trip shrugged. "There's no real way of tellin' when they're gonna be here. A lot of things can happen that might slow them down. If Enterprise had flown at top speed all the time she would've arrived yesterday. We were hopin' that was gonna be the case, but the warp reactor can't work on its limits all the time. But I'm sure the cap'n is gonna try and pick us up as soon as possible. Who knows, Shuttlepod Two might be landin' in your backyard this very afternoon."

"The captain wouldn't be so careless as to land in the middle of a settlement when he doesn't know anything about a planet," Malcolm objected.

Trip sighed in frustration. "Of course he wouldn't, Malcolm. I was only jokin'. Could you hand me the microlaser, please?"

Before Malcolm had a chance to react Erianna handed Trip the requested tool. He gave her a surprised look.

"How did you know which tool I was talkin' about?"

She smiled. "Sometimes I think I would have been a rather good engineer. I had already started the training."

"Why did you stop?" Trip asked.

Erianna shrugged. "Let's say I had other priorities. And besides, they never started the space program I was hoping to work for."

"Why not?"

"Our governors agreed to use our resources to solve Renelan's problems. They decided that space travel is irrelevant."

"That's a pity."

"Yes, it is," Erianna sighed. "I would have loved to see the asteroid field with my own eyes. Or go and visit Alkira or Menaos. But perhaps I'll still get a chance to do so at some point in the future."

Trip eyed Erianna thoughtfully. She was about his age and if Renelan hadn't started his own space travel program yet it would be much too late for her to join it. In her eyes he saw that she knew this just as well as he did. But she was already smiling again, pointing at Trip's work. "Aren't you going to finish it?"

Trip was adjusting the signal carefully to Starfleet's frequency. "I'm done." He threw a critical look at his work. "I don't think T'Pol would be very impressed, but when Shuttlepod Two is in range they'll hear it." He stowed the device away in the arm pocket of Malcolm's uniform.

"Shouldn't you keep that?" Malcolm asked.

"Better keep it in your uniform pocket where it's safe. I guess as soon as the cap'n has located you he'll find me as well."

Malcolm smiled thinly. Indeed he had been planning to keep Trip within his sight.

All three of them looked up when Jeren entered the room. He was smiling but the expression seemed to be somewhat forced. "Are you ready for your visit at the governor's palace?"

"As ready as ever."

Erianna had washed Malcolm's uniform and they had both taken a shower and had shaved in preparation for their visit.

"I'm afraid the governor will invite you to stay over night," Erianna said.

"That a problem?" Malcolm frowned.

"I would prefer to have you back here for the night." Erianna was clearly feeling uncomfortable, even though they couldn't see why. "But you can't decline his invitation without being rude."

"You seem a little upset about this visit." Malcolm was beginning to feel suspicious, and didn't bother to keep the question out of his voice.

"Don't worry about it." Jeren bent down to pick up Trip, and the engineer wrapped an arm around the doctor's shoulders. "The governor is a very friendly and hospitable man. He'll probably ask you hundreds of questions, but will give you an interesting evening." Straightening up with Trip in his arms, he nodded at Malcolm to follow him.

"Listen, Trip," Jeren continued when they had all taken their seats in the flitter and he was boosting the engines. "Governor Tasur has his own medical advisor who is also a very important person at the Health Center. He might ask you if he can examine you. You should decline that offer. Be as friendly as you can, but make clear that you won't allow an examination."

"He'll ask why, I guess."

"You can say that you've had enough examinations during the last few days and you're just fed up with it. Tell him to contact me about the results."

"Why do I have a feelin' that he won't do that?" Trip muttered.

"I'm sure he won't, but you can't know that, can you? And please don't tell them anything about the T-14 or the cure in your bloodstream."

"What d'you suggest I tell them when they ask me about my paralysis?"

Jeren never missed a beat. "Just say that the nerves in your legs are torn. Tell them I said human nerves needed more time to heal than ours, and even our advanced medicine wasn't able to speed up the recovery process. Say that you're expecting to be able to walk again in no more than a few days. And it's very important that you don't let them take a blood sample."

"Why not? You took a blood sample yourself back at your place."

"Yes, but I would appreciate it if you didn't mention that. In fact, I must ask you to lie when they ask you about it."

"Why?" Trip asked, beginning to feel slightly irritated. He couldn't make any sense out of what Jeren was telling him.

Jeren sighed. "Renelans are a little bit paranoid where blood taking is concerned. It's considered almost a crime to take a blood sample without permission. And there are only a few doctors at the Health Centers who are allowed to do so."

"And you're one of them," Trip stated.

"No, I'm not. Unfortunately. I would get in big trouble if one of you told anyone about me taking blood from you."

Trip and Malcolm looked at each other, confused. "Why the hell is takin' a blood sample supposed to be a crime? It's one of the first things medical students on Earth learn to do."

"Well, as I said, Renelans are a little paranoid about that. And no one at the palace knows that it's different with your species. So everyone would understand if you denied this request with the simple explanation that you're not comfortable about giving your blood."

Malcolm regarded him doubtfully. "Would you mind explaining what's so special about Trip's blood? Or why else don't you want Trip to be examined by this doctor? I have the feeling that something's going on here, and that it has something to do with us. When you talked to Erianna last evening you mentioned some sort of danger. Are we in any danger? Is Trip in danger? I'd've brought my weapon in that case."

Jeren shook his head. "It would have been of no use. The moment you enter the palace you'll be scanned for weapons. The governor is extremely cautious. He'll make sure that you're no threat to him."

"A threat?" With raised eyebrows, Trip looked pointedly down at his legs.

Jeren smiled understandingly. "He just wants to be sure. He would be offended if you brought weapons into his house. I don't think that you're in any danger, though. But I must ask you, Malcolm, not to leave Trip alone there. Not even during the night. Ask for a double room. It might cause a few raised eyebrows, but I'm sure you'll find a plausible reason to do so. Stay together during your visit. I'll be back to pick you up tomorrow afternoon."

Malcolm threw a side-glance at Jeren. Their new friend was worried. He tried to hide it but his efforts to do so were futile. Of course this only served to increase Malcolm's own anxiety, especially because he didn't have a clue what was going on here.

"Why don't you just accompany us?"

"Because I'm not invited." Jeren sighed. "Tasur doesn't like me. He never mentioned it, but I know that I'm not welcome in his palace."

"Why not?"

"That's a long story."

"Why don't you simply tell us what all of this is about?" Malcolm sounded unnerved.

"Yes, I guess you have a right to know," Jeren admitted. "But right now we don't have time for that. Tomorrow evening, okay? And don't be concerned, I guess there's nothing to worry about. Just be careful."

Jeren flew an arc, bringing down the flitter on a widespread landing area in front of an imposing building. Actually, it didn't quite deserve the name palace, but it wasn't like all the other buildings. Somewhat resembling an old Mexican hacienda, the house was situated in an extravagant park with lots of lawns and trees. When Jeren shut down the flitter's engines some people appeared at the top of the grand staircase.

"The elderly man in the middle is Governor Tasur," Jeren explained when he lifted Trip out of the vehicle. "The man beside him is Harek, his personal guard." Jeren grimaced.

"Seems you know him." Becoming aware of how tense he was feeling, Trip tried to ease his grip on Jeren's shoulders somewhat. He felt terribly humiliated that he couldn't meet the governor on his own feet.

"We were friends when we were young," Jeren explained. "Very good friends, you could say. He fell in love with Erianna and for a while I was hoping they were going to marry. But then he decided to join the governor's guard. It was the only possibility for him to play with the weapons he adored so much."

"You disagreed with his decision?"

"It wasn't only his affection for weapons. There's much more to it. His relationship with Erianna ended with his decision, and it was very hard for her." Jeren fell silent when Harek came down the stairs to meet them. He smiled amiably.

"Hi Jeren, nice to see you." He turned to Malcolm and Trip. "In behalf of Governor Tasur I welcome you in his palace." He nodded to Trip. "I've heard that you're not able to walk at the moment. If you don't mind, I'll carry you."

Trip did mind. It had been hard getting used to being carried by Jeren whom he now considered a friend, but it was a different story being picked up by a total stranger. But there was nothing he could do. Harek had already extended his arms and Jeren handed the engineer over to his former friend. Trip felt like a doll going from hand to hand and he didn't like this feeling at all.

"Take good care of him," Jeren told Harek, a distinct warning in his tone.

"I will. Don't worry," Harek promised.

"Okay." Jeren's face softened as he accompanied them up the stairs to the waiting governor. After greetings had been exchanged, he introduced them as Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed, gave them a last smile and left. Rather regretfully, Trip watched him walk down the stairs. He couldn't help the feeling that now the only person they could really trust was gone. The unfamiliar surroundings made him feel rather self-conscious, but fortunately he still had Malcolm at his side.

The governor welcomed them with a broad smile. "I'm glad to have you here at my home," he beamed. "I'm Governor Tasur," he introduced himself, then gestured at a young woman standing next to him. "This is my daughter, Farina."

Tasur was a stately man who held himself very straight, which made him look even taller. He was about fifty years old and had a very jovial manner. His daughter Farina seemed to be about twenty years old and was very beautiful with long silky lightbrown hair and sparkling green eyes. She smiled shyly, her eyes lingering on Malcolm just a little too long.

Tasur introduced his attendants. "My attorney, Javor, and my personal physician, Dorsik."

Trip was beginning to feel rather ridiculous in Harek's arms. Tasur's guard held him with a strong and reliable grip but this position and his dangling legs didn't help his self-confidence in any way.

"Please accompany me to my office," Tasur said. "I'm sure you understand that I have a lot of questions. I hope you don't think us rude but it's the first time we have visitors from so far away." He pointed at an open door. Harek set Trip down at a table with drinks and refreshments. Malcolm sat down beside him and Tasur, his attorney and his doctor took seats at the other side of the table. Farina sat down next to Malcolm. Fluttering her silky eyelashes, she glanced furtively at him from time to time.

"I understand that you had to make an emergency landing out in the desert," Tasur initiated the conversation. "It's not the best region of our planet."

Trip cleared his throat. "You could say so, Governor. It's hell of a place to be stranded. We were quite relieved to find out that Renelan is inhabited at all. We'd already assumed the whole planet consisted of one big desert."

The men laughed and Farina chuckled.

"How are you, Commander Tucker?" Tasur asked. "Jeren told me that you've been severely injured. My medical advisor, Dorsik, would like to examine you."

Trip sighed. "No offence, but Jeren examined me so many times during the last two days that for now I'm really fed up with doctors pokin' and proddin' me."

Tasur smiled broadly and didn't show any sign of resentment. "I can understand that, but Dorsik is a very capable physician. No offence, but he's certainly better than Jeren."

Trip doubted this, given the fact how quickly Jeren had been able to heal Malcolm's hands. But of course he didn't voice his thoughts. Remembering Jeren's advice, he said: "I'm really sorry, Governor, but I don't think there's any examination procedure Jeren didn't do at some point which would help my current condition."

"Jeren told you why you're not able to walk?"

Trip threw a glance at Malcolm. Now was the time when he had to start lying, hopefully without anyone noticing that he wasn't exactly telling the truth. "Of course he did. He told me the nerves in my legs were torn, and that a human body takes longer to heal than a Renelan one. He also said there was nothin' he could do to speed up the healin' process with Renelan medication, but he was pretty sure that I'll be able to walk again in a few days."

"It must be very uncomfortable for you, not being able to walk." Tasur's voice was full of genuine sympathy.

"It sure is. But I'm confident that it won't take too long for my legs to heal."

"Well, despite Jeren's opinion I might still be able to do something to help you." It was the first time Dorsik had said something.

"I'm sure Jeren would be happy to give you all of his results," Trip suggested and saw Dorsik flinching imperceptibly. "No offence, but I don't want to undergo any more examinations right now. I was looking forward to meet you and spend an interesting evening and not ending on another doctor's examination table."

"Of course, Commander Tucker." Tasur still was smiling broadly. "You're not here to undergo more tests. Dorsik can ask for Jeren's results and if he finds another possibility to help you he'll contact you."

Dorsik hesitated. "Will you allow me to take a blood sample? It would be very helpful."

Trip pretended to think over the question, then shook his head. "I don't want to be rude, but I don't want that."

Dorsik lifted his head and threw Trip a suspicious look. "Did Jeren take a blood sample?"

"No, he didn't." Trip decided to use Jeren's own words. "Humans are a little paranoid where blood takin' is concerned. I apologize but we feel rather uncomfortable givin' blood."

"You don't have to apologize, Commander Tucker." Tasur who had been smiling all the time now shot Dorsik a reproachful look. "We apologize for being so rude. It's the same here on Renelan. We don't like to give our blood, either. In fact there are very little examinations that require a blood sample. I'm sure our scanners will be pretty much adequate in your case and of course Jeren has already performed all necessary tests. Now let's talk about something different. I was told your home planet is called Earth?"

Trip breathed a sigh of relief, glad for the change of subject which allowed him to return to telling the truth. "Yes, that's right. Earth is the only inhabited planet in a system with eight other planets."

"And what brings you so far away from your home?"

"We are explorers," Malcolm joined the conversation. He explained Enterprise's mission to Tasur and his staff, telling them why they were stranded on Renelan. All three men and especially Farina hung on his lips. Trip used the time to take a good look at their hosts. Tasur was a little too friendly for his tastes. His jovial cheerfulness was very different from Erianna and Jeren's open and heartfelt manner. The man seemed very diplomatic and likeable enough, but without being able to explain it even to himself Trip felt uncomfortable in his presence. He had no idea where this feeling came from. Perhaps Jeren's dislike of the governor had affected him more than he had realized. However, he was pretty sure about his feelings concerning Dorsik. He didn't like the doctor at all. For Trip's taste he was far too obtrusive, although he hadn't really said enough to substantiate this feeling. Javor, the attorney hadn't said a word up to now, and after a while you simply forgot that he was there. You couldn't say that of Farina, though. Seeing all the shy glances the young woman had thrown at Malcolm, Trip smiled involuntarily. It seemed that the lieutenant had found a new admirer. Briefly, Trip wondered if he should be annoyed at the fact that this beautiful woman had not given him so much as a second glance. She even seemed to avoid looking at him. Okay, he had to admit that hanging in Harek's arms he hadn't looked very attractive when they had first met.

Malcolm asked Tasur to tell them about Renelan, and the governor gladly complied. He told them nothing different than they knew from Jeren but was more precise about logistics and the management of the various provinces. Finally he stood up. "Please follow me to the dining room. Our cooks have prepared a special meal for you, and Farina put together an interesting entertainment program." Fondly, Tasur looked at his daughter. "I hope you'll stay for the night."

Trip and Malcolm exchanged glances.

"Don't tell me you're not going to stay," Tasur exclaimed. "We've been so looking forward to your visit, you can't disappoint us now."

Trip forced a smile. "Of course we'll stay, Governor."

"That's wonderful. Please follow me. Harek, you take care of Commander Tucker."

Harek appeared from the corner of the room where he had been waiting patiently during their conversation. He smiled. "May I?" he asked and picked Trip up.

'No, you may not' was the first thing that came to Trip's mind. He was beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable being carried this way. But at the moment there were no other possibilities for him to get from one place to another. He saw Malcolm glancing at him from the corner of his eye. It was strangely comforting to know that his friend knew exactly how he felt.

They met a group of armed men in the corridor and stopped to let them pass by. Malcolm looked at the weapons with interest.

'"My guard," Tasur introduced them proudly. "They are on their way to do some target practice."

Trip bit his lip when he saw Malcolm's eyes lighting up. Tasur saw it as well and smiled patronizingly.

"Would you like to take a look? Only the governor's guards are allowed to carry weapons. Actually, guns are forbidden on Renelan, but important people like governors are still entitled to protect themselves. My men have a very good aim but some target practice from time to time is very helpful."

They followed the men until they arrived at an empty hall, where some targets were hanging on the wall. On the opposite side of the room was a row of lockers where the weapons were stored. Malcolm looked at Trip and raised his eyebrows. This didn't look very professional to him.

One after another the men raised their weapons, aimed and fired. The guns looked ancient, and it seemed the Renelans were still using bullets like people had on Earth nearly half a century ago. But of course on Renelan there had never been a reason to construct advanced weapons.

For a few minutes Trip forgot about his embarrassing position in Harek's arms. It was very interesting to watch Tasur's guard at their shooting practice. Two or three of the men did quite a good job, hitting the bull's eye more often than not. A man called Rassik definitely had the best score. The rest of the men, however, hardly succeeded in hitting the target on its edges. Trip didn't consider himself a good shot but he knew for sure that even with his limited skills he would have done a lot better than most of Tasur's men. He caught Malcolm's eyes and knew that the armory officer was shocked at such a lack of experience. The worst shot of his own crew would have been able to easily outdo these bunglers.

Tasur seemed to misinterpret their expressions. "They're good, aren't they?" he asked with a proud smile.

The corners of Malcolm's mouth twitched. Tasur misinterpreted this as well. "Do you want to try, Lieutenant?"

"Sure." Malcolm took a step forward and Rassik handed him a weapon, loaded with ten bullets. Being twenty centimeters taller than Malcolm, Rassik looked at the smaller man with hardly hidden contempt, explaining the weapon's functions to him like he would have done to a child. Given his enthusiasm for ancient weapons, Malcolm had known at once how the pistol worked, but he listened politely to Rassik's explanation without showing any sign of annoyance at being treated in such a condescending way.

Malcolm aimed and fired. The bullet hit the outermost edge of the target. The men of the guard exchanged derisive looks. Tasur kept his friendly smile but his eyes betrayed his amusement. Malcolm looked at the gun in his hands. Even with a crude weapon like this, he wouldn't have expected such a deviation. Now he knew why the men weren't able to hit the targets properly. Briefly, he calculated the deviation and then fired the rest of the bullets right into the bull's eye, leaving a large hole in the middle of the target.

Trip looked down to hide his amused grin. Never mess with a Reed, he thought. He loved the flabbergasted look on Tasur's face. Still, it was clear that with his little demonstration Malcolm hadn't won any friends among the guards. Rassik's eyes displayed undisguised hate when the lieutenant handed him back the weapon with an innocent smile.

* * *

 

"That was unbelievable." Tasur was still pondering Malcolm's shooting abilities when they were already sitting at the table. "I could use a man like you in my guard, Lieutenant. Is there any chance of persuading you to stay on Renelan?"

"Thanks for the offer, Governor. But I have to go back to my ship. I'm needed there."

"That's a pity. Usually we're not very enthusiastic about aliens living on Renelan since our planet is already somewhat overcrowded. But I would gladly arrange for an exception in your case."

"I appreciate that." Malcolm suppressed a frown. The offer was clearly addressed only at him, not at Trip as well. He had also noticed that he was served with much more care than Trip. Tasur's servants seemed to feel uncomfortable around the engineer, most of them avoiding his eyes while serving his food. Malcolm also noticed that both Tasur and Javor's questions were mostly directed at him, and not Trip. Ever since his performance in the shooting gallery, they apparently thought of him as the superior officer. Trip didn't seem to be bothered, but Malcolm was. Despite the fact that Trip was handicapped, he still had the right to be treated with the same respect that they showed Malcolm. But Trip busied himself with eating and was content with Malcolm taking care of the conversation. Malcolm was glad when the meal was over and the entertainment program Tasur had mentioned started, allowing him a short break. It was incredible how much Tasur had wanted to know. His questions were intelligent and to the point, but Malcolm always had to think briefly before answering. Fortunately, Tasur hadn't been too eager to know about Enterprise herself but had mostly been asking about their missions.

Farina laid her hand on his. "I hope you'll like the play I've chosen." She beamed at him.

"I'm sure I will." Malcolm returned the smile briefly. He didn't know what to do with this young woman. Not for the first time he wished to have a little of Trip's natural charm. He liked her well enough, but still found himself sitting there like a lemon without a clue what they should talk about. However, it turned out soon enough that he wasn't required to do the talking. Farina babbled the whole time trying to explain the play to him and didn't seem to expect an answer.

Trip stifled a yawn behind his hand, trying not to let his exhaustion show. It had been a long day. The chairs all had a very straight and hard back and weren't exactly comfortably for him to sit on. Although he could lean against the back rest, he had to tense the muscles of his stomach all the time so as not to lose his balance and the strain was beginning to make itself felt. With a little sigh he thought of the easy comfort of his wheelchair back on Enterprise.

Malcolm glanced at him with a worried expression in his eyes. Trip nodded reassuringly. It wasn't that bad yet.

After the play a group of dancers showed wild acrobatics, and he was quite impressed with their performance. Malcolm seemed to be as well, joining the audience's enthusiastic applauding. Still, both of them were glad when Tasur finally stood up.

"We've prepared rooms for you. I hope you'll find them agreeable."

Malcolm threw a glance at Trip. He felt uncomfortable with the question he was going to have to ask and for a split second he wondered whether it was really necessary. Maybe Jeren was somewhat overreacting where the governor was concerned. None of the questions the man had asked had been critical in any way. And while he didn't seem very interested in Trip, he had always acted very polite in Trip's presence. Malcolm didn't expect any threat to Trip or to himself. But he had promised to Jeren to keep an eye on Trip and he intended to keep his promise.

"We'd prefer a double room," he told Tasur. "If that's possible?"

The corners of Tasur's mouth twitched slightly, and he glanced at Javor who answered the smile with a knowing grin. "Is there any particular reason for that, Lieutenant?"

"Commander Tucker may need my help. I just want to stay near him."

"But you don't have to do that. My staff can take care of Commander Tucker."

"Thank you, I'll be fine," Malcolm answered stiffly. He had seen the horrified look in Trip's eyes at Tasur's words. It would be terribly embarrassing for him, having to rely on the assistance of these people who could hardly bring themselves to look at him. "It is my job to take care of him. Commander Tucker is my friend, but he's also my superior officer."

Tasur looked at Trip in mild amazement. "You're his superior officer?"

"Commander Tucker is Enterprise's first officer. He's the acting captain when Captain Archer's not aboard," Malcolm explained. He saw Trip's barely concealed smile and was sure T'Pol would forgive him that he'd put Trip's rank before hers. He just couldn't allow Trip to be discriminated against only because he couldn't walk.

Bewildered, Tasur sought for words. "I didn't mean to offend you. I was under the Impression ..."

"... that Lieutenant Reed's the superior officer because of his fine shootin'," Trip finished the sentence. "That's no problem, Governor."

Tasur straightened his posture. "I apologize, Commander Tucker. I didn't know enough about your military hierarchy when I made my assumption. It's an unforgivable mistake. But please, allow me to have my staff take care of you. I don't want people calling me a careless host." He snapped his fingers and ordered two young men to show Trip and Malcolm to their rooms. The men glanced at Trip, then looked down at their feet. Tasur inhaled audibly, his eyes dark with anger. He opened his mouth, about to say a few sharp words when Harek stepped up beside him. "If you don't mind, Governor, I'll take care of that." He nodded at Trip. "Okay with you?"

Nodding his affirmation, Trip allowed Harek to pick him up. Followed closely by Malcolm, Harek carried him upstairs. "Please don't be angry at them," he told Trip. "There's no one on Renelan who can't walk. They're simply not used to someone like you. They don't know how to act around you. Tasur's never told them about your accident, he never wastes his time to tell them anything. He believes all of his staff to be stupid and uneducated. And to be honest, some of them really are. I guess they all believe you're suffering from CDS."

"CDS? What's that?"

"A disease that affects mostly old people. But younger people can get infected as well when their immune system is down. A growing paralysis is one of the symptoms."

"Wait a minute," Malcolm interrupted. "You just told us you don't have paralyzed people on Renelan."

"That's right. The paralysis is the final stage of the disease. Only very few would be able to survive it, but most people suffering from CDS would go to the Health Centers before their bodies became paralyzed. Well, here we are, lieutenant. Would you please open this door? This is Commander Tucker's room. Your's is straight ahead."

Malcolm opened the door of a big room. Because of its size, it looked sparely furnished but it provided for all their needs. The bed looked comfortable and there was a large wardrobe as well as a table with two chairs in a corner of the room. Trip knew he wouldn't need the furniture, he simply looked forward to lying down and allowing his body some much needed rest.

Harek sat him down on one of the chairs, and pointed at the numerous panels on the wall. "You'll only have to ring if you need something. I'm sure the servants are getting quite a dressing-down right now because they've insulted Tasur with their behavior. He won't tolerate these things under his roof. No one will take any more liberties with you, Commander."

"It's okay, Harek," Trip answered. "I'm not as helpless as it might seem. I'm pretty much able to help myself."

"Good." Harek smiled and pointed at a door in the rear. "There's the bathroom. And like I said, just ring if you need help."

Harek left to show Malcolm his room. Trip leaned back and exhaled, relieved to finally get some rest. It was almost midnight, his joints were aching badly and he was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open. He grimaced. His condition was really frustrating, he hated his body not being able to handle any stress.

He also needed to go to the bathroom rather badly. But he was simply too exhausted to lower himself to the floor and to pull himself over to the adjoining room. For a moment he pictured having to call one of the governor's employees and explain his needs to them, and shuddered at the thought. That was not an option. But fortunately it wasn't going to be necessary, either. Not for the first time today he was glad to have a good friend with him.

That moment Malcolm knocked and entered the room.

"What's going on?" he teased. "Not going to call a servant to help you?"

"I'm quite glad that I have my personal servant with me." Trip smiled, relieved. "Can you bring your actin' cap'n to the bathroom?"

Malcolm crouched down to take Trip on his back. "You're not going to tell T'Pol that I've promoted you, are you? I don't know how Tasur could get the impression that I'm your superior officer. I just wanted to make sure he understands your position aboard Enterprise."

"I guess it was because you're wearing a uniform and I'm not. Or maybe he was just impressed with your shootin' abilities."

"But that has nothing to do with my rank." Malcolm opened the bathroom door, chuckling derisively. "By the way, I would be ashamed if my staff had such a bad aim. Although I have to admit that it's nearly impossible to shoot properly with these weapons. Not even a computer would be able to calculate that deviation."

"Well, you were. You did a pretty good job back there."

Grinning embarrassedly, Malcolm lowered Trip onto the chair that was standing in front of the sink. "You'll manage?"

Trip looked around the spacious bathroom. He would be able to take care of himself.

He nodded. "Shouldn't be a problem."

"Okay. Call me if you need help."

* * *

 

A few minutes later, Malcolm carried Trip to the bed.

"D'you know what I'm really missin'?" Trip asked when Malcolm set him down.

"You mean besides the Enterprise, your precious warp engine and perhaps the captain?"

"Hm, yeah."

"Maybe your wheelchair?"

Trip grimaced. "It's strange. I'd never thought I'd ever say that."

"Well, I can imagine why you would feel that way. I have to admit, it was quite a shock for me when I first saw you sitting in that wheelchair. But I guess as soon as you have to do without it, you realize that it's actually only a device designed to help you get from one place to another, and not some kind of... symbol of your handicap. I can imagine today wasn't easy for you."

Trip shrugged and pulled his t-shirt over his head. "I like Harek okay. But you can imagine how it feels bein' carried around like a doll all the time."

Malcolm nodded. "It's really strange that they haven't got something like a wheelchair. I mean, what do they use in their hospitals? You don't have to be paralyzed to need a wheelchair. What about people with broken legs, for example?"

"Exactly." Trip pushed his legs under the sheets. "Or old people who are too weak to walk. How do they transport them?"

Malcolm looked at him. That was exactly the point. Now he was finally able to put a finger on the strange feeling he'd had on the way to the Health Center the day before. "Believe me or not, Trip, but this planet doesn't have any old people."

"C'mon, Mal. There're old people in every society."

"Tasur's by far the oldest person I've seen so far. And he looks very healthy and strong, certainly not like he's going to drop dead any minute. Still, even at this Health Center I've seen no one older than perhaps fifty. No old Renelans. No disabled. No sick people."

"Perhaps their advanced medicine can really heal everythin'."

"Except for that strange disease Harek told us about. Could it be the reason why all people older than Tasur die?"

Trip regarded him thoughtfully. "I think Jeren has a lot of explainin' to do tomorrow evenin'." He saw that while he'd been in the bathroom Malcolm had brought a blanket and a pillow from his own room. "What's this about?" he asked, amused.

"Keeping my promise."

"C'mon, Mal. What do you think can happen to me here? Go to your own room and get some rest."

Malcolm shook his head, a stubborn expression on his face. "I promised Jeren to keep an eye on you and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

"You're not serious, Malcolm."

The lieutenant stiffened. "I certainly am. If you don't like having me here, you can always kick me out."

"That's not fair, Mal."

"You're right. It's not." Malcolm smiled. "So you'd better deal with it that I'm going to spend the night right here." He laid the blanket and the pillow on the floor next to the bed. Trip looked at him with big eyes.

"What're you doin', Malcolm?"

"What does it look like? As you can see they've forgotten to put a couch in here. And to be honest I can't be bothered to ask for one right now."

Trip smiled at this sudden frustrated outburst, then sighed. "C'mon, Mal, don't be silly. If you're gonna insist on playin' motherhen, then you don't have to sleep on the floor. The bed is big enough."

"But it's not a double bed, Trip. Tasur already thinks that we're a couple. Did you see how he looked at that attorney of his?"

"So what? I couldn't care less what he's thinkin'. And besides, he doesn't need to know that you're sleepin' in here. C'mon, Mal, don't be stupid."

Hesitantly, Malcolm got up. The floor did indeed look rather hard and uncomfortable. "You don't mind?"

Trip chuckled. "I've already slept in the cap'n's arms, so I guess it can't get any worse."

Malcolm snorted. "Just so you don't get any ideas, Commander, you're certainly not going to sleep in my arms."

Trip was still chuckling when Malcolm laid his pillow on the bed. Suddenly the lieutenant stopped in his tracks, frowning at him. "You've slept in the captain's arms?"

"Yeah." Trip sighed, sobering up again. That evening three weeks ago wasn't exactly one of his happiest memories. "Remember when I was completely paralyzed, and Jon took me back to his quarters for the night? Well, seems like I started cryin' in my sleep and Jon was tryin' to comfort me, but then he fell asleep himself."

Malcolm only nodded and made no further comment, seeing that it wasn't easy for Trip to talk about these things.

Trip smiled at him. "Could you help me turn over? There's no bed rail I can grab hold of."

Malcolm answered his smile, and helped Trip roll onto his side. "Good night, Commander."


	18. Chapter 18

Malcolm didn't know what had woken him up. Except for Trip's soft snoring the dark room was quiet. But for some reason his trained senses had switched to alarm mode. While he was intently listening into the dark, adrenaline began to flood his veins, causing every nerve to tremble. The soft scratching at the door was hardly audible, as was the faint clank when the old fashioned key Malcolm had locked the door with fell to the floor. Slowly, Malcolm extended his hand and touched Trip's back. All of a sudden the snoring stopped and Malcolm felt Trip's muscles tense.

The door opened with a low creak. Malcolm grabbed his blanket and rolled from the bed in a catlike movement. The blanket cushioned his fall and muffled the thud as he hit the floor. Carefully, he peered over the edge of the bed. In the faint light from the hall he was able to identify three darkly dressed figures quietly entering the room. One of them sneaked to the bed while the two others shut the door and leaned against it after a short and futile search for the key.

Well, too bad I'm already here, Malcolm thought grimly. No use in locking me out. He tensed his muscles. Fortunately, his eyes had already gotten accustomed to the darkness and he could see what the intruders were doing. But his position behind the bed wasn't a good place to start from. He would have to jump over the bed to help Trip, but such an action would give his enemies enough time to fend him off, even if he could take them by surprise.

But Trip didn't need any help. When the man bent down over the engineer, Trip's fist hit him right between the eyes, sending him sprawling on the floor. For a split second Malcolm allowed himself a satisfied grin before he jumped over the bed towards the two men who were still standing at the door, peering into the dark and trying to understand what was happening in front of their eyes. Arms spread wide, Malcolm managed to knock them both down in one swing. Before they had a chance to recover, Malcolm was back on his feet, his martial arts training kicking in as he fought them off with all his strength. He stopped short when he heard a noise behind him, and turned his head. The third man had managed to pull Trip off the bed, but although he was lying on the floor, Trip wasn't helpless at all. With a hard punch on the man's legs, he swept the intruder off his feet and landed a few more hits before his opponent had a chance to react.

The brief look over his shoulder had been a mistake, though. The second Malcolm turned back to his adversaries, he received a hard hit in the stomach that pressed the air out of his lungs and made him cough. As he instinctively bent forward, he knew the next punch was supposed to hit him hard on his chin. With an effort, Malcolm stepped aside and when his opponent's fist hit only empty space, the tactical officer used the opportunity to slam the man against the nearby wall. The same moment Malcolm turned around and with a well-placed uppercut sent the second man to the floor as well.

Malcolm was breathing only slightly heavier when he turned to Trip and the third intruder. Although he was lying on the floor and hindered by his paralyzed legs, Trip managed to hold his ground. Again and again he placed some hard hits, preventing the man from getting up. All of a sudden, however, the stranger pulled up his legs and with all his strength he smashed his feet against Trip's chest. Trip cried out in pain and let go of his adversary. The man jumped to his feet, turned around and stumbled straight into a very angry Malcolm who sent him to the floor again with a hard punch.

When he saw the two other men scrambling to their feet, Malcolm prepared himself for a fight with all three of the men. But it wasn't necessary. After looking and gesturing at each other the men turned around, opened the door and without another look back, they ran away.

After switching on the light, Malcolm found the key and locked the door. In addition to that he blocked the doorknob with the back of one of the chairs. "It would've saved us a lot of trouble if I had done that in the first place", he muttered to himself.

"Neither of us was expectin' an attack", Trip said from behind.

"I'm quite sure Jeren was expecting something like this." Malcolm turned around. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Only a few more bruises added to my collection." Trip chuckled wearily, holding his ribs with both hands. "It's a shame, if you think about it. Three men and they can't even fight off one and a half." He smiled ironically. "And here I was thinkin' we were much more fragile than they are."

"You're counting yourself as half a person?" Malcolm smirked. He crouched down, wrapped his arms around Trip's upper body and lifted him back onto the bed. "Didn't look that way to me, the way you were fighting that guy."

"Wasn't so difficult, really. My engineerin' crew would've been able to do a better job fightin'. They may have more strength than we do but you could've beaten them with one hand. Guess they've never heard of fightin' tactics before."

"Maybe. But they weren't completely inexperienced, either." Malcolm sat down beside his friend and finally asked the question both of them had in mind. "Any ideas what they wanted?"

"Nope." Trip shook his head. "They weren't just burglars. But I have no idea why they would be so interested in two aliens."

"They were only interested in you, Trip." Malcolm ran a hand through his hair. "They didn't know that I was here. That's why two of them stayed at the door, so they could stop me in case I tried to get in. What do you think? Shall we wake Tasur to inform him about what happened?"

"Right now? It's the middle of the night." Trip shook his head. He hated causing so much trouble. "Tomorrow mornin' we'll have time enough to tell him."

"But now there'd still be a chance to find them."

"Not a better chance than in the mornin'. I'm sure all three of them are now in their rooms, playin' innocent. They didn't come from outside the palace. They had a key to open the door. I'm pretty sure that they were part of Tasur's very own personal guard. And they were sent here by someone."

"You mean, by Tasur himself?"

"Not necessarily. It could be Dorsik as well. Or Javor, although I don't know why he would do such a thing. Or maybe even someone we haven't met so far."

"But why should someone order the guard to attack you?"

"I don't know and we won't find out right now." Trip dragged his legs onto the bed and under the covers, while Malcolm moved over to his side of the bed to make room for him. "We should try to sleep," Trip suggested.

"Okay," Malcolm admitted but he wasn't really planning on going to sleep now. How could he when the men who'd attacked them might still be sneaking around the house? He leaned against the head of the bed, pulled his knees against his chest and covered his legs with the blanket.

"What're you doin'?" Trip asked him, looking up suspiciously.

"I think it's better for me to stay up a while. To make sure this doesn't happen again."

"Malcolm..." Trip stopped when he saw Malcolm's features harden. "I can't talk you into lyin' down and gettin' some sleep, can I?"

"I don't think so."

"You know that you're terribly stubborn, don't you, Lieutenant?"

"Almost as bad as you, Commander. Now get some sleep."

Trip sighed and closed his eyes. There was no use in arguing with Malcolm. He would watch over his sleep like a mother over her baby. Trip smirked at the comparison, at the same time feeling somewhat guilty because Malcolm stayed awake because of him. Still, he had to admit that he was going to sleep a lot better with Enterprise's security chief watching over him.

* * *

 

"This is unbelievable," Tasur fumed. He paced up and down his office, only stopping briefly when he passed the table where Trip sat and Malcolm stood beside him. "I can't believe this. My guests are attacked! In my own house! I still can't believe it. No one can break into this house, it's very well guarded."

"We think the attackers came from within the house." Malcolm tried to interrupt the governor's litany in a calm but firm tone of voice.

Tasur stopped in his tracks and raised his eyebrows at him. "From within...? Are you saying you're suspecting my staff?" He looked at Trip. "But they know that you don't have any articles of value with you. Why should anyone attack you if not to steal something?" Tasur's lips tightened. "Perhaps they just wanted to check whether you might have something valuable in your pockets, after all." Thoughtfully, Tasur ran a hand over his smooth chin. "This incident will not go unpunished, I assure you. I will question all of my staff myself. And I'll find the culprits, I promise you."

"I don't think they belonged to your staff," Trip said.

"Who else?" Tasur's eyes were sparkling angrily and Trip didn't know whether the governor's anger was addressed to him personally or whether the man just hadn't liked his last remark. "No one else has a reason to break into one of your rooms."

Trip and Malcolm exchanged a glance. It hadn't been a coincidence that the men had broken into Trip's room; they had done so for a reason. And their intention hadn't been to steal something. Trip and Malcolm were sure the men belonged to Tasur's guard; even though they hadn't been very good fighters, their martial arts training had given them away. Those men hadn't been simple domestic employees, that was for sure. But there was no way to explain this to Tasur who seemed to be a hundred percent sure of his guard's loyalty.

With an almost imperceptible nod the two officers agreed to let the subject drop so as not to upset Tasur even more.

"It's alright, Governor," Malcolm said. "Neither of us got harmed."

"You don't seem to understand, Lieutenant Reed. You're my guests and you've been attacked in my house. I can't tolerate this." Tasur took a deep breath, trying to calm down a little. "But that doesn't concern you. I'll take care of it. Please, accompany me to the breakfast table."

"Sorry, Governor, but we'd prefer Jeren to pick us up immediately. Maybe you could be so kind as to call him?"

"You can't leave just yet," Tasur exclaimed. "Breakfast is ready and Farina would be happy to show you the palace garden later on." He smiled sheepishly. "Okay, I must admit, palace garden is somewhat overstated, but it's a beautiful park. She's been looking forward to spending some more time with you. As have I."

Malcolm glanced at Trip. He felt increasingly uncomfortable in this house. But it looked like they couldn't leave without offending Tasur. He nodded. "All right, we'll stay."

"Wonderful." Tasur clapped his hands. "I'll call Harek."

* * *

 

During breakfast, Tasur continued to ask them all kinds of things, mostly about their lives on Enterprise. Malcolm was sure that Tasur was going to try and find out more about their technology and spent most of the conversation thinking up diplomatic answers why he couldn't tell him anything about Enterprise's weapons or tactical systems. After a while, however, he realized that Tasur wasn't really interested in their answers. The man was only trying to be a good host, making small-talk, but that was all. While Malcolm was relieved that the governor wasn't trying to get classified information, he found himself feeling slightly irritated at the man's obvious lack of genuine interest. Why invite someone if you weren't interested in them at all?

Finally Tasur stood up. "I apologize, but I have some urgent business to attend to. Farina will be happy to stay here and entertain you." Smiling broadly, he laid a patronizing hand on his daughter's shoulder, then left the room together with Javor and Dorsik.

Farina took Malcolm's arm. "Please, follow me, Lieutenant. I've prepared a picnic basket. You'll like the park." She beamed at him.

A picnic basket? Malcolm sighed, making no move to get up from the breakfast table. He had just opened his mouth to object when he realized what Farina's exact words had been. Her invitation had been addressed only to him.

"What about Commander Tucker?" he asked.

Shyly, Farina glanced at Trip who gave her a friendly smile. She looked back at Malcolm, clearly feeling uncomfortable. "Perhaps he'd like to have a look around the house. Or lie down and get some rest." Her voice took on a hopeful tone.

But Malcolm shook his head. "I'll stay with him."

"Why?" Farina looked disappointed. "You don't have to stay with him all the time, do you?"

"No, I don't. But he's my superior officer." Malcolm remembered what Jeren had said to him the day before. "And my friend," he continued. "I won't leave him here."

"Very well." Farina sighed resignedly. "I've got enough food for the three of us. I'll ask Harek to assist Commander Tucker."

Malcolm stiffened. "That'll be not necessary. I can carry him."

"No, you have to help me with the basket." Farina stood up and went to the comm panel on the wall.

Malcolm leaned over to Trip. "Do you think she's deliberately trying to leave one of us behind?" he asked in a low tone of voice.

"I don't think so, Mal," Trip said, smiling a little. "She just doesn't like to share you. Just humor her and go for a walk. I'm sure I'll find somethin' to keep me busy."

"No way, Commander. I won't leave you alone after what happened last night. You're coming with me to this... picnic."

Trip looked at Malcolm, biting back a grin. He could clearly see that Malcolm felt uncomfortable in Farina's presence. This wasn't so much about not leaving him behind than about not being the one who had to keep conversation going.

"Wouldn't it be better if I carried you?" Malcolm asked in a rather obvious attempt at changing the subject.

"I'll be fine, thanks."

"I can imagine you don't feel very comfortable, though."

Trip shrugged. "The Renelans are a lot stronger than we are. No reason for you to throw out your back."

"Okay." Malcolm looked up when Farina came back.

"Harek is on his way," she said to him. "Come on."

Malcolm nodded but remained standing next to Trip until Harek had entered the room. Then he followed Farina to get a picnic basket so stuffed with food that he felt slightly sick just by looking at it. Farina clung to his arm and began to talk happily.

Harek grinned at Trip. "Looks like the Governor's little darling has a crush on the lieutenant."

"Seems so," Trip agreed. "Isn't there anyone on Renelan she likes?"

"Sure. She's a nice girl and she's very pretty." Harek threw Farina a glance that told Trip it wasn't the first time the guard had noticed these things about the governor's daughter.

"You like her too, don't you?" Trip teased. He liked Harek. He was the only one who didn't seem embarrassed about Trip's inability to walk.

"Yeah," Harek admitted. "But I'm just a guard. Tasur has other plans for his daughter."

"So you think he'd want a Starfleet Lieutenant for a son-in-law?"

"Who knows? Tasur was very impressed with the lieutenant's shooting abilities. He would love to have someone like him in his guard. I guess he'd become one of Tasur's tactical consultants in no time."

Trip smiled wryly. Seemed like Malcolm would have no problem climbing the career ladder on this planet. But what about him? There didn't seem to be a great demand for crippled engineers around here.

Trip decided to turn his attention to the garden. The park was indeed very spacious, huge bushes and trees lining large meadows and colorful flower beds. Here and there the greenery was interrupted by well-kept foot paths. In a way, the peaceful scenery reminded Trip of a garden in a fairy tale.

Farina spread a blanket on the ground in the middle of a large meadow. Trip frowned. "Maybe we can move over there to sit under the trees," he suggested.

Farina threw him an irritated glance. "Over there we'll only be sitting in the shadow, Commander. It's nicer out here in the grass." She nodded at Harek who carefully lowered Trip down onto the blanket.

"Over there at the lantern is a comm panel," he told him. "Call me if you need me."

"Thank you, Harek." Malcolm put down the picnic basket and sat down beside Trip. It must look very odd, two men and a woman together on a blanket having a picnic in the middle of the day. Malcolm thought of picnics as an amusement for couples in love but not for the tactical officer of the Enterprise. He felt slightly uncomfortable, particularly because Trip kept watching him with a knowing grin. On the other hand he was glad for Trip's presence. He had no wish to take care of the small talk all by himself. Malcolm watched Farina unpack the basket, then noticed that Trip was having some trouble keeping his balance. "Lean against my shoulder if you like."

Trip gladly accepted the offer. He bit his lip when he saw Farina's face as she realized that she'd made a mistake by refusing to sit under the trees. There had been no way for her to know that without something to support his back he had to put a lot of strain on the muscles in his stomach to sit up and couldn't stay like that for a very long time. Now, of course, he was sitting a lot closer to Malcolm than Farina was, and the young woman didn't seem to like it.

Farina listened with rapt attention to everything Malcolm said, but still, Trip noticed that she seemed to be listening to him as well, showing genuine interest in what he had to say. Finally, she relaxed enough to joke with the men, and the general embarrassment subsided.

Trip lay down on his side and leaned on his elbow. He had a feeling Malcolm regretted this; with Trip leaning against him for support he'd had the perfect excuse to ignore Farina's attempts at moving closer. Inwardly, Trip shook his head as he watched Malcolm sitting stiffly on the picnic blanket.

Come on, Mal, he thought. Give the girl a chance, for God's sake. He was almost relieved when Farina finally decided to try a different strategy, suggesting a walk in the park.

But the lieutenant shook his head. Trip had a hard time to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

"I can't leave Trip alone," Malcolm explained.

Trip sighed. No way would he take the blame for Malcolm's inability to have a good time. He was already playing gooseberry as it was, and didn't want to be the reason for Malcolm to refuse to go for a walk with a pretty girl. "C'mon, Mal," he said, "I'm not a baby. What d'you think could happen to me here? I'm perfectly fine stayin' here and waitin' for you."

Farina threw him a grateful look, waiting patiently for Malcolm to make his decision.

"Go, Malcolm!"

Malcolm stood up, reluctantly. "Okay, but we'll stay within sight. Call me if you need me."

Trip rolled his eyes; no way was he going to do that. "Not before I'm in a complete panic," he muttered and shot Malcolm another encouraging look. He watched them leave, Farina taking Malcolm's arm and leaning against his shoulder. Relax, Mal, Trip thought. For heaven's sake, this isn't combat training.

Trip turned onto his back and leaned on both his elbows. The park was indeed beautiful, and the weather was nice and sunny. Their ordeal in the desert was almost forgotten, and he was beginning to feel almost at home on this world. Still, Trip would have given a lot to be back on Enterprise. It had been seven days, and still they were nowhere in sight. What was keeping Jon so long? Trip knew that there wasn't any reason to worry yet, the captain knew where to look for them. If he couldn't find them in the asteroid belt he would search for them in the nearby solar system and then it wouldn't take long for him to locate the shuttle. It was only a matter of time until T'Pol picked up the emergency signal Malcolm was wearing in his arm pocket. All they had to do was wait a little longer.

Wearily, Trip shut his eyes and was already beginning to doze off when he noticed a movement behind him. He wasn't able to react fast enough, however, and a moment later hands grabbed his arms and he fell on his back, hard. Someone was holding his upper arms in a vise-like grip, and a hand was tightly clamped over his mouth. Trip squirmed, but he couldn't escape the strong grip. He might have been able to free himself by kicking his legs, but unfortunately that was not an option. Again, there were three of them, each of them wearing dark clothes, their faces masked. Trip tried to scream but the hand covering his mouth muffled the sounds. Whoever the attacker was didn't care that he was pushing his hand against Trip's nose as well and Trip could barely breathe. With an effort, Trip managed to get his hand free and pinch the man behind him hard in the wrist. For a split second, the man loosened his grip, which was enough for Trip to break free and to drag his fingernails across the unmasked throat of the man before him. When the pressure on his mouth subsided, he bit the hand as hard as he could. The man cried out loud, and punched him in the face.

"Malcolm!" Trip shouted, then the man's fist connected with his cheekbone again and the world went dark.


	19. Chapter 19

Malcolm had no idea what to say. He liked Farina but they didn't seem to have many common interests to talk about. They weren't even from the same planet. But fortunately Farina was very talkative, and mostly didn't even expect an answer.

"Can I ask you something, Lieutenant Reed?"

"Malcolm. My friends call me Malcolm."

Farina beamed. "You're saying you consider me your friend?" she asked excitedly.

Malcolm couldn't suppress a smile. She was so young, no matter how mature she tried to appear. And he could easily guess what she was thinking.

"Hm," he said vaguely. "You wanted to ask me something."

"Yes." Farina leaned closer to his shoulder. "It's... it's kind of a personal question. I don't want to offend you."

"You won't."

"My father thought... he said... well, I mean..." Farina took a deep breath. "My father said it could be possible that you're not interested in me at all."

"Why not? You're a pretty young woman, very nice and intelligent." Malcolm stopped when he became aware of the implication of Tasur's words. "Oh." He stiffened. "Your father's wrong," he said curtly.

"I'm glad to hear that." Farina smiled at him. "Please don't be angry. We couldn't know for sure."

"I'm not gay," Malcolm said, embarrassed, but in a firm tone of voice. "Neither is Commander Tucker." What a mess he had made with his simple wish not to leave Trip alone during the night. But considering the events of last night Malcolm was still convinced that he had done the right thing.

"My father found it a little... strange that you wanted to spend the night in one room with your fellow officer. Please don't be angry with him."

"Perhaps Trip wouldn't even have survived this attack, if I hadn't been there." Malcolm tried not to let his anger show. Tasur's speculations weren't Farina's fault.

"What attack?" Farina looked at him with big eyes.

"Didn't your father tell you about it? We were attacked last night. To be more specific, Trip was attacked."

"I don't believe you." Fiercely, Farina shook her head. "In our house? That can't be true."

"Your father said the same thing."

"And he's right. Who would want to attack your Commander Tucker in a house full of guards?"

"Perhaps the attackers were members of the guard," Malcolm said.

Farina looked at him as if he were crazy, then pressed her lips together. "I don't know what you're thinking of us, Lieutenant," she said stiffly. Malcolm noticed that she was using his title again, rejecting his offer to address him with his given name. "We offered you our hospitality and you're trying to tell me my father's guard attacked you at night? That's absolutely ridiculous. Absurd and ridiculous."

Malcolm decided to drop the subject. He was fed up with discussing the same matter over and over again. Being told again and again how impossible it was that they had been attacked in this place. If it had been only him, their disbelief might have left him thinking that it had only been a dream, but Trip had been attacked as well. And was still feeling the consequences of their nightly struggle. This morning, Malcolm had seen the bruise on his friend's hip where he'd collided with the floor, as well as his badly bruised ribs. In a way, it annoyed him that everyone he talked to denied the attack so vehemently and looked at him as if he were hallucinating.

They walked in silence for some minutes. Discreetly, Malcolm tried to change their direction so they were headed back for the picnic place. But Farina threw him a knowing glance, then took his arm and practically dragged him behind a bush. She seemed to have overcome her anger; maybe she had realized that their time together was limited and decided not to waste it with an argument. Before Malcolm had had a chance to react, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard.

Surprised, Malcolm just stood there and let it happen, but then he felt his body reacting to the kiss. Farina's lips were soft and warm, and her tongue forced its way between his lips. Malcolm pulled her feminine body closer and opened his mouth to let her tongue in. He had almost started to relax and enjoy the kiss, when he heard someone cry out. In an instant, he pushed her away.

"What was that?" he asked, alarmed.

"Nothing, Malcolm, why...?"

"Malcolm!" It was Trip. And he sounded definitely panicked. Malcolm turned around and ran back as fast as he could, his heels clacking on the garden-path. When their picnic place came in sight, he could see three masked figures crouching over Trip, who lay motionless on his back.

"Hey, stop it!" Malcolm yelled to distract them from whatever they were doing with Trip. It worked. The men looked up, jumped to their feet and ran away. For a moment, Malcolm considered pursuing them but then he stopped and kneeled down beside his friend. Carefully, he put a hand on the engineer's shoulder. "Trip, what happened? Are you okay?"

Trip groaned and opened his eyes. Worriedly, Malcolm gave him a brief look-over. The bruise on Trip's left cheekbone was darkening at a rapid speed, and a small trace of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.

"Is the cap'n here already?" Trip mumbled indistinctly. "My head feels like a shuttle's landed on it."

"I'm glad you're okay." Malcolm smiled in relief. "Any idea what they wanted?"

"No, I don't have a clue." Trip tried to prop himself up on his elbows and Malcolm supported his back.

While he was still helping his friend, Malcolm suddenly became aware of Farina standing beside him, her eyes wide with shock. "I'm so sorry, Malcolm, that I didn't believe you", she said. "I would've never believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. He was attacked in our very own park. That's outrageous."

The girl seemed to be in shock. Malcolm let go of Trip to get up and comfort her. Carefully he helped her sit down on the blanket. "Sit down, Farina, it's okay. Trip hasn't been harmed."

But Farina stared at Trip's arm with a blank expression on her face. Following her gaze, Malcolm detected a very small trace of blood at the inner side of Trip's elbow. "What's that?" he asked alarmed and grabbed Trip's arm so vehemently that the engineer almost lost his balance.

Trip frowned, shaking his head. "I don't know."

Malcolm examined the arm. "Looks like they've taken a blood sample."

"A blood sample?" Farina looked at him, her face as white as a sheet. "Someone took a blood sample from him?"

"Looks like they did."

Angrily, Farina jumped to her feet. "My father has to be informed about this," she exclaimed and with renewed energy she ran across the grass to the comm panel.

* * *

 

Like he had done in the morning, Tasur was pacing his office. He had become even more agitated after he had gotten word from Farina about Malcolm's suspicion that someone had forcibly taken a blood sample from Trip. Dorsik had confirmed the lieutenant's theory.

As he sat in a chair in the governor's office, Trip tried to fathom the doctor's expressionless face, searching for any indication that Dorsik knew something about what was going on. Trip was quite sure that the doctor's innocent facade was only a sham. Who else could have any use of his blood? But Tasur didn't seem inclined to consider this possibility. He seemed confused, at a loss what to do.

Annoyed by the governor's obvious helplessness, Malcolm looked from one man to the other. "Let's try to analyze the situation logically," he suggested. "Who could want a sample of Trip's blood? In my opinion, the fact that a blood sample was taken indicates that a physician was involved in the attack in some way or another."

"What are you saying, Lieutenant?" Tasur stared at him in disbelief. "Are you accusing Dorsik of attacking your friend? He's absolutely reliable. He would never take a blood sample without permission."

I agree, Trip thought. Of course he wouldn't have to do it himself, he had some hired men to do the dirty work. But he kept his thoughts to himself, knowing that Tasur would never believe him.

"You weren't able to recognize anyone, were you, Commander?" Tasur asked. Finally, he seemed to have calmed down enough to concentrate on the facts.

"No, I wasn't. They were masked, like the men last night."

"So you're sure the attackers were men?"

"Definitely. I guess one of them has some pretty deep scratches on his neck."

Tasur looked up. "Then we can identify him. I'll order my staff to assemble in the hall. We'll see who has scratches on his neck." Resolutely, Tasur nodded at them and left the room.

"I hope he won't forget about his guard," Malcolm muttered sarcastically. "Do you think he'll find them?"

"I guess all he will do is cause an embarrassin' situation." Trip shrugged. "But it's the only thing he can do."

Harek entered the room. "I'm here to bring you to the hall," he said smiling. Involuntarily, Trip looked at his neck, but there were no scratches to be seen.

Following Tasur, they walked along the long row of household employees and guards. Most of the employees looked down at the floor whereas some of the guards threw them belligerent looks. Rassik's eyes still were full of hatred. This man didn't like them at all, but that couldn't possibly be a reason to attack Trip.

When they finally ended their inspection they hadn't found anyone with as much as a scrape on his neck. Tasur looked relieved. "See, it wasn't anyone of my staff."

Trip nodded. "It was your idea to do this, Governor," he said loudly. He wanted these people to know that this humiliating procedure had been initiated by Tasur himself. But what if the man they were searching for simply hadn't been among these people? Would Tasur realize if someone was missing? Perhaps he had even known that they wouldn't be able to identify anyone. In the end, it didn't make any difference. Trip only wanted to leave this place. A glance at Malcolm told him that his friend felt the same way. He was as annoyed with Tasur's behavior as he was.

"Would you please call Jeren," Malcolm asked. "It's time for us to leave."

Tasur seemed offended. "Please, stay a little longer. I'll guarantee for your safety. I promise, from now on my guard will watch your every step."

"That's very kind of you, Governor, but we wouldn't feel very comfortable bein' observed all the time," Trip said, forcing a friendly smile. "We've enjoyed very much bein' your guests, but it's time to return to Jeren and his sister, who offered us their hospitality as well. We don't want to disappoint them."

"I understand, but I had hoped you would decide to wait in my house for your ship to arrive." Tasur nodded. "Very well, it's a pity that you want to leave but if that's your wish I will of course call for Jeren." Stiffly, Tasur turned around to order someone of his staff to make the call.

"Very diplomatic, Commander," Malcolm whispered in Trip's direction.

Trip grimaced. "I've learned a lot from Jon. I just hope we'll be able to leave without offendin' the governor too much."

Farina was very disappointed when she heard about their decision. "Can't you stay a while longer?" she begged Malcolm. "Jeren can take Commander Tucker with him and we can spend the rest of the time together."

"I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Why?"

Malcolm racked his mind for an answer. He had no wish to offend the girl; he liked her and had already started to feel comfortable in her company, but he also knew that he couldn't stay here. Things were getting dangerous, especially for Trip, and Malcolm had no intention of leaving his friend alone. Neither here nor at Jeren's place. But he was quite sure Farina wouldn't understand that. "Trip and I need to be together when our ship arrives," he told her. "Our captain wouldn't be very pleased if he had to search for us at two different places."

"Hm, I can understand that." Farina sighed. "How long do you think will you stay here on Renelan?"

"I don't know. That depends on how fast Enterprise can be here."

"Will you come for a walk with me tomorrow? If you're still here at the time." Farina smiled shyly.

Malcolm nodded. "We'll see," he said vaguely, but that was enough for Farina, who smiled happily at his answer.

* * *

 

Jeren arrived about an hour later. While they were waiting, Tasur and Javor never left their side. Harek and Rassik stayed in the room as well, both guards keeping their hands on their weapons. It was quite annoying. Tasur's caution was understandable, now that Trip had been attacked twice, but still, no one would dare to harm them in the governor's presence. It wasn't necessary to place an armed guard in here, let alone two guards. Tasur might have intended to put his guests at ease, but the presence of the guards did nothing to ease the tension that was hanging over the room. Harek carried his weapon in a holster on his hip, but Rassik held his gun in his hand and from time to time aimed it at Malcolm, pretending it to be mere coincidence.

Naturally, both Trip and Malcolm were quite relieved when an employee announced Jeren's arrival. Tasur hastily stood up to meet him and shook the doctor's hand in his usual hearty manner. Jeren talked to him for a few seconds then came over to where Trip and Malcolm were waiting. The forced smile they had seen on his face during his conversation with Tasur changed to genuine warmth when he greeted them.

"Well, looks like you've had enough of this place already," he teased, but the expression on his face changed when he saw the bruise on Trip's cheekbone. His eyes seemed to ask what had happened but he didn't say a word in front of Tasur.

Harek stepped closer to pick Trip up, but Jeren shook his head. "I'll carry him." There was something in his eyes that made Harek step back immediately.

Trip wrapped an arm around Jeren's neck, and Jeren lifted him up. The governor and his daughter accompanied them to the staircase leading to the big patio.

"I enjoyed your visit very much," Tasur said to Trip. "It was very enlightening. I would love to meet your captain. Maybe you could drop by once more before you leave. I hope you're not too angry with me. I apologize for the incidents once again, and assure you that the attackers will be punished severely when we find them."

Farina had taken hold of Malcolm's arm and seemed reluctant to let go of him. "I'll come and visit you tomorrow," she told him. Malcolm nodded vaguely.

Both of them felt relieved when they finally sat in Jeren's flitter and their friend boosted the engines.

"Hey Mal, why don't you take the girl with you aboard Enterprise?" Trip teased, trying to ease the tension that was making itself felt.

"Why should I?" Malcolm felt very uncomfortable being teased about Farina.

"She could take care of you." Trip chuckled.

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much," Malcolm snapped. "Just drop it, Commander."

"Okay, boys." Jeren threw a glance over his shoulder. "What incidents? Who gave you that shiner, Trip?"

They became serious at once, and Malcolm sighed. "Trip was attacked twice."

"Twice?" Jeren shot them a curious look. "How could that happen?"

Malcolm told him about the nightly attack and Trip explained about this afternoon's incident.

"Did they do anything to you except the bruised cheek?"

"I believe they've taken a blood sample."

"Dammit." Jeren started so badly that for a moment he lost control of the helm and the flitter began to shudder. Quickly, he brought it back on course. "Do you know for sure?" he asked then.

"Dorsik confirmed it. Although we're still not quite sure it wasn't him who initiated the attack. Who else could use a blood sample if not a physician?"

"You're right, but Dorsik isn't really more than a lackey. He only does what Tasur tells him to do."

"Tasur? Are you sayin'..."

"...that Tasur himself arranged these attacks? I'm quite sure he did."

"That can't be. You should've seen him. He was fumin' mad that somethin' like that could happen in his own house."

"Tasur's quite a good actor," Jeren said derisively.

"Then he did quite a good job of foolin' us." Trip shook his head. "You think he kicked up all this embarrassin' fuss about the staff havin' to show us their necks just to distract us?"

"Show you their necks? What do you mean?"

Malcolm explained. "Trip managed to scratch one of his attackers. In fact, none of the men had any visible injuries on their necks. But if Tasur himself arranged the attack, then he probably made sure that the man in question wasn't among the assembled staff in the first place."

"I don't think that was necessary."

"But we might have been able to identify him." Malcolm stopped and looked down at his hands, the truth dawning on him. "I see," he said. "If you were able to heal my hands within two days, then Dorsik could have healed these scratches within a few minutes."

"Yes. The palace's laboratory is almost as good as ours back in the Health Center."

"Wait a minute." His eyebrows drawing together, Malcolm glanced at the dark bruise on Trip's cheek. "Then why didn't he offer to heal Trip's bruises?"

"Because you would have noticed all the sophisticated equipment, and this would have made you even more suspicious."

"So you're saying the attackers were standing right in front of us, laughing at our stupidity?"

Trip frowned angrily. "Looks like we've been taken for a ride."

"Don't blame yourselves," Jeren tried to reassure them. "There was nothing you could have done about it."

"They wouldn't have had a chance this afternoon if I'd kept my promise to stay with Trip." Malcolm sighed.

"It wasn't your fault, Mal," Trip said appeasingly, but Malcolm didn't look very convinced.

"Do you think it was Farina's intention to lure me away from Trip?" he asked Jeren.

"No, I don't think so. Tasur is a coward, but I don't think he would use his daughter for his plans. Perhaps it was enough for him to suggest you go on this picnic and she helped him without knowing about it. Don't feel guilty, Malcolm. Trip is right, it wasn't your fault. Even if you had stayed close to him all the time, it could have happened all the same. You wouldn't have been able to fight them off. I'm sure Tasur told as few of his guards as possible but if necessary, he would have sent all of his men against you."

"Harek as well?" Trip asked. He could hardly imagine Harek participating in such an attack.

"I guess so. I don't know exactly how loyal he is to Tasur. But I think he would follow all of his orders without questioning them."

"You don't trust him, do you?"

"Not anymore. I used to trust him with my life about six years ago. But we've changed. Harek has, and I have, too. We don't have much in common now."

Trip heard the bitterness in Jeren's voice and knew that losing his best friend had been hard for him. "Well," he said. "I liked him."

Malcolm chewed his lower lip. "Why haven't you told us about all that before, Jeren? If you had warned us about Tasur's men being dangerous, I could have prepared myself to protect Trip."

"I would have told you, but I didn't know for sure that something like this would happen. You're right, I was concerned about Tasur, but I thought he would believe the story about the torn nerves. He'd only investigate further if he knew more about Trip than he let on. I didn't want to worry you about a rather unlikely possibility."

Trip stared at his legs, and all of a sudden he realized what this all was about. "It's about this T-14 in my blood, isn't it?"

Jeren nodded. "Yeah. And about the cure."

"That was why you asked me not to mention it. But what's so special about it? You told me this substance is well known on your planet. So why would they attack me to get more information about it?"

"That's right," Malcolm nodded. "And I don't see how Tasur could know about Trip's blood containing T-14. You said we're the only ones who know about it."

Jeren's eyes went dark with anger. "Exactly."

During the rest of the flight Jeren was lost in his own thoughts, keeping his eyes straight ahead. Neither Trip nor Malcolm dared to disturb his broodings; they'd never seen their new friend in such a mood before.

Absentmindedly, Jeren parked the flitter in front of the house and opened the hatches. Still lost in thought, he didn't really watch what he was doing when he lifted Trip out of the flitter, and the engineer couldn't suppress a low moan when Jeren's hands squeezed his bruised ribs. Immediately, Jeren came out of his trance.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "Did I hurt you?"

"It's okay. It's only that my ribs are a little bruised."

"From the attack last night?"

"Yeah, but it's no big deal."

"Let the doctor be the judge of that, will you?" Jeren smiled and seemed to have forgotten about his anger when he carried Trip into the house. Erianna was already waiting for them. She hugged Malcolm, then, after Jeren had sat him down in a chair, she came over to hug Trip as well. "It's good to have you back," she said, stopping in her tracks when she looked at Trip's face. "What happened?" she asked, alarmed.

"Trip's been attacked," Jeren explained. "They've taken a blood sample from him. Damn, I should have known. I'll kill him. I'll kill this slimy little snitch with my own hands."

Erianna laid her hand on his arm. "Calm down, Jeren. Who are you talking about?"

"Kenan of course. He's the only one who knew about the T-14 in Trip's blood. I suspected him of being Tasur's spy for a long time now but I never had any evidence. He infiltrated my team to spy on me and to keep Tasur informed about my activities. But he will pay for this, I swear. He won't get away with it."

With a worried expression, Erianna looked at him. "Do you think Trip's in danger?"

Jeren visibly pulled himself together, trying to calm down. "Dorsik will need some time to analyze the blood sample. Now I'm sure he knows about the T-14, but I never told Kenan about the cure. It is an unknown substance, so he couldn't have possibly seen it on his scanners. Dorsik doesn't really know what he has got there. I'm sure he'll detect this substance but he has to work some more thorough tests to analyze it. I had an uncontaminated blood sample from Malcolm for comparison, but Dorsik only has Trip's blood. So I guess it will take him at least two days to discover what he's got. Trip's safe for the time being. Tasur won't send the counselors only because of the T-14, even if he doesn't know why it is in Trip's blood. But Dorsik surely will find the traces of the cure and if he does, then we can't guarantee for Trip's safety anymore. We'll have to find a safe place for Trip. And soon."

"Perhaps Arissa and Yanis will take him in for a while."

"That's a good idea. At least for a few days."

Standing there with his arms akimbo, Malcolm didn't even try to hide his annoyance. "Would you two mind telling us what's going on here?" he asked, disgruntled.

Jeren turned around to face them. "Well, I guess you have a right to know. Just wait a minute." He fetched a med kit from the shelf and took care of the bruise in Trip's face. It didn't go away, but it didn't hurt anymore, either. When he had finished with the bruise on Trip's cheek, Jeren asked him to lift his shirt. Frowning, he examined the bruised ribs, then spotted the dark spot that was half covered by Trip's pants. "What's that?"

"Nothin'." Trip was beginning to feel uncomfortable with this thorough examination.

"Yeah, I can see that. Come on, let me take a look at it."

"Jeren..."

"This bruise looks rather nasty, and needs to be treated. Come on, you don't have to undress completely."

Sighing, Trip pushed his jeans over his right hip.

"Can you lean over, please?"

"Anythin' else you want me to do?" Trip threw a glance at Malcolm who promptly supported his shoulder so he could lean over.

Jeren applied some ointment to the bruised ribs, and Trip held his breath at the burning sensation.

"The burning will subside in a few seconds," Jeren reassured him. "Did you tell Tasur about this?"

"That someone kicked me in the ribs? Yeah, I did."

"And he didn't offer to let Dorsik take a look at it?"

"No."

Jeren pressed his lips together. "A very attentive host," he muttered, applying some more of the ointment. Trip steeled himself for the pain but this time, the burning sensation wasn't nearly as bad as the first time. The dull pain he'd been feeling in his side all day was beginning to subside as well.

With another salve, Jeren took care of the bruise on his hip. "Okay," he said. "All done. Any more pain?"

"No, it's gone. Thanks a lot."

"You're welcome. It would have been Dorsik's job to take care of your injuries, though." Jeren looked up. "Why don't we all go and sit on the verandah for a while? Trip can lie down there, and it's a nice place to talk."

"I'm not tired," Trip objected and immediately belied his statement as he had to stifle a yawn.

"Yes, I see you're not." Jeren smiled. "Don't you think it would be best to lie down for a little while? You won't be sleeping, anyway. There are important things I have to tell you about."


	20. Chapter 20

Trip had been helped into a comfortable deck chair on the roofed-over verandah. Malcolm was sitting beside him and Jeren and Erianna had provided for some beverages. Uncomfortably, Jeren shifted on his chair before he straightened his posture. "This part isn't one of the most glorious of Renelan's history. To be honest, I feel ashamed about what I have to tell you. I think you have the right to know, but it's quite a long story."

"Well, we want to hear it," Malcolm said. He and Trip weren't going to budge until they got to know about this mystery.

"Okay, maybe some historical facts first. However, 'history' isn't very present in people's minds on Renelan. We live in the present and no one bothers to remember what happened in former times. To be exact, no one is supposed to bother about. Our great-great-grandfather secretly did some researches on his own and left them to our grandfather. Unfortunately, we never had the chance to get to know him, and our father wasn't interested in carrying on this chronicle. I found it in the attic a few years ago, and have drawn my own conclusions. I can't even tell you whether life on Renelan has developed on its own, or whether the planet was colonized by outworlders. I only know that some generations ago the inhabitable area was hard-fought over by some clans that used to massacre each other over every single acre. It were rather violent times back then. Finally, a man named Zanos succeeded in uniting the clans and bringing them together in one nation. Zanos is one of the very few names that are mentioned in the records. He's our Prince of Peace, so to say. He founded the eight provinces and installed the governors. They were allowed to reign pretty much on their own, but were responsible to Zanos. All weapons had to be destroyed, and people learned about agriculture, stock-breeding and later on about industry. They built houses and lived in peace. It worked until Zanos had to admit that there was a big weak spot in his plan."

"I think I know what it was," Malcolm commented. "After people stopped killing each other, they ran out of living space."

"You're right. The lasting peace quickly led to overpopulation."

Erianna shook her head. "Isn't it crazy to think a war can contribute to maintain the living standard and ensure a people's survival?"

"But war wasn't an option for Zanos. He started building more houses. Mostly skyscrapers towering into the sky and getting higher and higher to host more and more people. Progression of statics and architecture couldn't keep up with this development and during the time when our great-great-grandfather lived one of these skyscrapers collapsed."

"A few less people to take up living space," Malcolm muttered sarcastically.

"According to our great-great-grandfather, there were rumors that the governor of this province had personally arranged for the accident. The governors and even most citizens weren't very happy with Zanos' efforts to build houses on every suitable surface just to provide living space for the growing population. They wanted to keep their living standards with greenery and parks and one-family houses rather than living in skyscrapers."

"The way they live today," Trip said.

Jeren nodded. "It doesn't matter whether someone purposely arranged for the building's collapse or whether it was due to inadequate statics; the skyscrapers were classified as too dangerous and had to be knocked down. At this time, Zanos had died and the eight governors agreed on having no other leader. Zanos' son who was designated to be the new monarch mysteriously disappeared and was never seen again. No one knows what happened to him, but I believe the governors had him killed. The governors granted each other their sovereignty but agreed on the same policy, that would grant every Renelan generous space to live."

"How did they manage?"

"It seemed so simple. They only had to prevent people from having children. A law was enacted, saying that each couple was allowed to raise only one child and they were strict in supervising that it was obeyed. Unfortunately our great-great-grandfather doesn't say anything about what happened to parents who in spite of this law conceived more than one child or what happened to these children, but for a while this plan actually worked. Until the governors were confronted with another problem. The society's average age was rising."

"I see," Malcolm agreed. "If only few children were born there were a lot of old people and no one to care for them or do the work."

Trip was chewing on his bottom lip. He remembered Malcolm's remark about seeing no old people on Renelan. But the speculation that crossed his mind couldn't be true. Or could it? "Could it be that the governors tried the opposite? That they allowed people to have more children but started decimatin' the old ones?" He barely dared to voice his thoughts, but looking in Jeren's face he knew he'd hit the bull's eye. "That can't be true," he exclaimed.

"But it is," Jeren answered resignedly. "They realized children are the planet's future, they are eventually the ones who will do the work. Renelan needs its young people. Perhaps the regulation would have been effective a few generations later. When the population would have been halved by this measure, the number of old and young people would have been approximately equal, but the governors needed quick solutions."

"And then? I mean not allowin' people to have children is one thing, but how can you diminish the number of old ones?"

"First, the Health Centers were founded. A place where even today patients are brought who can't be treated by common physicians or, let's say, whose health isn't expected to get better soon. Accident victims are always taken to the Health Centers. Consultants decide about the seriousness of injuries, or how long it will take to heal a disease, and if they deem it appropriate they'll order the patients to be taken to the left wing. But you never see those people again."

Trip and Malcolm both stared at Jeren. "Are you saying they're killed?" Malcolm asked incredulously.

Jeren looked down at the floor. "Of course not officially," he said, barely audibly. "The official version is that the medical care is much better in the Health Center's left wings. But no one who is brought there with an injury or a disease is supposed to leave it again. The injuries simply were too serious or the disease too bad, they can always explain it." Jeren looked at them and his gaze was full of sorrow and shame. "Yes, they're killed. With a substance that paralyzes all of their nerves and muscles completely within ten seconds and stops the heartbeat almost in an instant."

Trip stared at Jeren, an unspoken question in his eyes. Jeren met his gaze, nodding.

"Highly concentrated Tetraparcyllin which officially even doesn't exist. T-18."

Trip swallowed. He had to breathe deeply to fight the nausea he was suddenly feeling.

"If this stuff doesn't officially exist, how come you know about?" Malcolm asked. "Because you're working in one of these Centers?"

Jeren started badly. "Are you implying I have something to do with these murders?" Jeren let out a trembling breath and grabbed his beverage. "I apologize," he said hoarsely after he had drunk. "But I saw too many people disappear in this wing. People I would've been able to help. I always try to see new patients before the consultants appear so I can convince them that I'll be able to help these people and that it's not necessary to bother the 'specialists'."

"You were tellin' us about injuries and diseases that can't be healed in a certain period of time," Trip broached the subject again. "What time period are we talkin' about?"

"Eight days."

"Say what?" Malcolm and Trip looked at each other, terrified. Malcolm licked his lips. "You're saying everyone who needs more than eight days to recover is killed?"

"Luckily, nearly all of the diseases can be healed very quickly. Our advanced medicine is truly a blessing."

"But what about an accident victim? Can you heal broken bones in this time as well?"

Jeren shook his head. "We can't heal broken bones at all. As advanced our medicine is in other areas, it completely fails there. Our bones are extremely dense. A great force is needed to break one, but once it's happened it won't heal again."

"So all people with broken bones automatically go to the left wing," Erianna who had been silent until now, added, her face displaying disgust. "As well as all diseases concerning the nerves. Paralyzed persons aren't welcome here."

Malcolm nodded, thinking. "That's the reason why you told Tasur that Trip would recuperate within two or three days. If you had told him his condition would stay the same for several weeks, he would have been brought to this left wing."

"I don't know," Jeren sighed. "Trip isn't from Renelan. But I don't trust Tasur and I just didn't want to give him a reason to treat Trip according to our planet's laws."

"You still haven't told us where your knowledge about this T-18 comes from," Malcolm insisted.

"I've taken blood samples from some of the dead. You can imagine that's strictly forbidden. I had to break into the Center one night to do so and if someone had caught me they would have kept me there. Erianna managed to modify my keycard so it would open the door to the left wing. Only very few physicians are allowed to enter this wing, and unfortunately I don't belong to them." Jeren shivered. "I don't want to belong to them. Perhaps they really believe they're doing what's best for the people of Renelan, but to me they're only cold blooded murderers. Anyway, I got the blood samples to do some tests of my own. Although my break didn't stay unnoticed. The administration noticed someone had manipulated the doorlock, and changed the codes immediately. I don't dare to break in there a second time, since they are already suspecting me, although they have no evidence. I guess they ordered Kenan to spy on me and to report immediately when I'm doing something that hasn't really to do with my job."

"Do the people know what's awaitin' them in there?" Trip wanted to know. A shiver ran down his spine when he thought of being brought to the Center fully aware of being killed there.

"No, not really. The injection is like a normal medicine. And then it works so fast no one has got the time to think about what's happening to them. The families are usually told there was nothing the doctors could do to help the patient."

"Are there many of these patients?"

"Fortunately not. About one or two a day in every province."

"I think that is a lot. But it still won't be enough to keep the population low."

"No, I'm not finished with my story yet."

"I bet." Malcolm nodded. "I would like to know why I haven't seen any old people."

"Old is a relative term, Malcolm," Jeren said softly.

"But I can't believe that on a planet like this, with your medical knowledge, people don't get older than maybe 50."

"But it's a matter of fact."

"Is it this disease?" Trip asked. "Harek mentioned it. CSD or somethin' like that."

"CDS. It's an abbreviation for a virus attacking the immune system. Especially older people get infected with it because their immune system is naturally weaker. But young people can get it as well if they're not strong enough."

Trip watched him closely. "Why do I have the feelin' that there is somethin' wrong with this virus? Can it be treated? Or are people who suffer of it immediately brought to this left wing?"

"No, people would get suspicious if so many patients died in the Health Centers and it takes a while until the symptoms start to show. The doctors do take good care of those patients. But there is no cure, although its progression can be slowed down with certain injections."

"Harek told me somethin' about paralyses similar to mine and that people go to the Health Centers before it gets worse. What exactly was he talkin' about?"

Jeren stood up and looked out into the dusk. "My grandfather wrote in his notes that there used to be some sort of afterlife-cult. The people were told that when their life here was over there would be the afterlife where everything would be a lot better. I guess they were very convincing because temporarily there was a real run of people who seemed to be tired of living. The Health Centers offered the possibility to go to the afterlife. I guess the idea to assist even those who didn't want to die had its origin in this afterlife-cult."

"So people wanted to die?" Incredulously, Malcolm shook his head.

"There are these so-called counselors at the Centers. They can literally talk you into everything. They're doing a good job, deliberately telling everyone who wants to die wonderful stories about the afterlife. About how everything is better over there and they'll have a wonderful live, waiting in peace for their family to come, or meeting with those who are already there."

"People really allow themselves to be killed? Just like that?"

"Renelan is now a planet of young people, Trip. There were times when older people were blamed by the society for using up living space. You can believe me, it's true. Everyone around the age of 50 was expected to end their life to make room for the next generation. Fortunately, during the last years families began to care more about their relatives and the younger ones won't give up their parents so easily. But then CDS came."

Malcolm grimaced. "It seems like this virus fits perfectly into the scheme."

Jeren sat down at the table again, turning his glass in his hands. "I tried for a long time to get into the research team. I was sure to be able to contribute to the researches about CDS, perhaps even to find a cure. But I was rejected every time I tried, in spite of my qualifications. The research team consists only of physicians who work in the Health Centers' left wings. I was taken aback at this fact, as well as the fact that only those physicians are allowed to treat CDS. They say that the virus can only be detected by testing a blood sample and only those physicians are allowed to take one. The family doctors are provided with the results, but they don't even have access to the data that was collected in the laboratories and I wondered why. So I started a research of my own. I compared the birth rates of the last few years with the death rates and got an astonishing result."

"The numbers were similar?" Trip assumed.

"They were almost equal. In years with a low birth rate less people have died of CDS than in years with lots of births."

"You think there's a connection?"

"I know there is."

"How can you know that if you don't have access to the test results?"

Jeren looked at Erianna who was lost in her own thoughts, spreading some spilled drops of her beverage on the table. She looked up and met Malcolm and Trip's eyes. "Seven years ago, our mother died in an accident. She was a first-class engineer, and worked in the power supply. She got badly burnt in an explosion. At that time, Jeren was still studying medicine. I still remember them standing in the door, pretending to be sorry and telling us her burns had been too severe to save her."

"I can hardly believe that," Malcolm said. "Jeren worked a miracle on my hands. Not even our ship's doctor would have managed that and he's really good."

"I'm sure even with the little knowledge I had at that time I would have been able to save my mother, if they had let me," Jeren said bitterly. "But every other physician would have been able to help her as well. It just wasn't the plan. Our mother always had been a thorn in Tasur's side. She told him what she thought of his policy without holding back and I think he didn't like that. I think her accident worked perfectly for Tasur. Our father was devastated. Without our mother, he had nothing to live for. Erianna temporarily dropped her engineering study to care for us but he withdrew into himself more and more. He couldn't find anything to live for, and began to degenerate physically as well. Of course his condition didn't stay unnoticed. I guess a well-meaning neighbor reported that he was looking ill and advised an examination. In any case it didn't take long until he got the order to undergo a CDS-test."

"You're forced to undergo this test?"

"Yes, anyone who misses the appointment is taken there by the consultants. By force, if necessary."

"What about your father? Did he have this CDS?"

"Of course he did. And of course they immediately injected him with the so-called vaccine. Our father didn't really care about the infection, he had gone on living only because of us. We were the reason why he wouldn't go to the afterlife he'd heard so much about when he was young and where our mother would be waiting for him. He allowed me to do what I'm forbidden to do by law. Taking a blood sample. Like I said, scanners can't find the virus so a blood examination is the only way to find it. The scanners only detected the vaccine he was injected with. Diluted Tetraparcyllin. T-14."

"Wait a minute," Trip objected. "I thought this stuff is responsible for my lame legs."

"It is. But at that time, I didn't know anything about that. I only found it strange that except for the vaccine I couldn't find anything in my father's blood that indicated he was infected with a virus. But I drew my own conclusions when I found the T-18 in the dead people some time later."

Malcolm inhaled sharply when he got the point. "Oh god, are you saying that they are injecting older people with a poison that slowly kills them, and keep telling them it's the vaccine to a virus?"

"Exactly. With every treatment our father was injected with more of the T-14. And even though the doctors kept saying it was easing the symptoms they kept getting worse. After six month, the first signs of paralysis were starting to show. One morning, our father was gone. He left us a letter saying he'd gone to our mother as long as he could do so himself."

"That was three years ago," Erianna added sadly. "Ever since, we've been on our own."

"That's a horrible story." Trip was full of sympathy. "But I don't understand what this has to do with me."

"You don't?" Jeren smiled. "You are the living evidence for the government's deceit. Your blood contains T-14, you know how it came to be there and you know what it did to you. You know that it's not a vaccine but a poison. So you would be able to prove that T-14 doesn't cure CDS, but actually causes it. You could prove there isn't any disease at all, and that it is only a cruel and well-planned genocide. And additionally, you've got the cure in your blood, too. A real cure that could heal all those people suffering from CDS, although it is said to be incurable. If you told our people what you know you could overthrow the entire government and cause a storm of protest among the population like Renelan has never witnessed before. And that's why you are a threat to Tasur and his colleagues. That's why Dorsik wanted to examine you. When you declined, a blood sample was his last chance to verify the truth of what Kenan told them. They wanted to know whether it's true that you have T-14 in your blood, although you're not from Renelan, and therefore would be able to threaten them with your knowledge. When Dorsik finds out about the cure he's going to flip his lid. And from that moment on you'll be in great danger."

"I can't believe it." Trip was stunned. "I don't know what shocks me more, your government systematically poisonin' its people or me havin' the cure for it." He looked at Jeren. "Tasur seemed to be so jovial and open-minded, but he's nothin' more than a cold-blooded murderer."

"Tasur is obsessed with having a 'clean' province. No old ones, no ill people, just a province of the young and strong. During the last years, the dying rates in our province were constantly higher than the birth rates. Other governors aren't that radical. We know that at least five of them aren't very happy with the current solution. But it works and therefore no one feels the need to do anything about it."

"I just can't believe it," Trip repeated. "It must have been a big surprise for you when you detected this T-14 in my body."

Jeren snorted, and for the first time since the beginning of their conversation the sparkle returned to his eyes. "At first, I thought you weren't going to be a lot of trouble. I asked Kenan to treat your cuts and the sunburn and all the aftereffects from your stay in the desert. Malcolm's hands, on the other hand, were more of a challenge. But then Kenan showed me the scanner results that showed a great amount of T-14 in your system. A far greater amount than my father's body had ever contained. I became suspicious. The couple that had found you had told us that you weren't from Renelan but that didn't necessarily have to be the truth. All the same, it could have been possible that you were from Renelan, although I couldn't imagine why a young and strong man should be infected with CDS. Malcolm, at least, had on a uniform that definitely wasn't from a Renelan organization, but you were wearing civilian clothes. It could have been that Malcolm met you here and was trying to take you away as long as you still had the time. I crossed my fingers that you both would be outworlders, and the extended scan Kenan did confirmed this. It was clear that you were not from Renelan. And then you confirmed the suspicion I was never able to prove: It is the T-14 that caused your paralysis, and it could lead to your death even though it worked slightly different with you than with my people. Perhaps you can imagine how excited I was when I found the cure in your blood. I'm hoping that with your help, we'll be able to prove that our governments are killing people instead of saving them."

"But is there anything you can do with this knowledge?"

Jeren nodded. "Renelans aren't as naive as they were only a generation ago. Lots of other people are concerned, too. We have a very well organized resistance movement that is trying to reveal the facts. Erianna is one of the leaders. She published my test results, my suspicion that it isn't a virus causing the CDS. I can't say it had a great impact because I couldn't show my evidence, and making the announcement anonymously took away a lot of its credibility. But we succeeded in sowing some distrust and making people think about the disease. Of course, the governments tried to find out who had spread the news and they almost found out it was Erianna. Tasur couldn't prove it was her but as a measure of precaution he put her name on the black list. That's where the public enemies are listed. Her name was labeled with a question mark, but she still lost her place at the engineering academy and can't find a job."

Looking at Trip's and Malcolm's shocked faces, Erianna forced a smile. "You have to make some sacrifices if you're fighting for your principles. And this matter is worth every sacrifice, particularly because we have evidence now. You're our evidence, Trip. Jeren told me I must not endanger you and may only publish his results when you're safe aboard your ship again. But an interview with you telling us about your experiences with T-14 would be very helpful."

"Of course," Trip agreed at once.

Erianna smiled at him. "You can't imagine what this means to me."

"Actually, now I can."

Erianna threw a regretting look at Jeren. "It's a pity our computer hasn't enough memory space to do something big, like a documentation we could feed into the media. That would be great."

"D'you want me to have a look at your computer?" Trip suggested. "I'm pretty good at tinkerin' with such things."

"I've done a little tinkering myself. But I lack several of the necessary parts. You just can't get them anywhere. Private people aren't allowed to have sophisticated computers. I guess the government is afraid someone would find a way to spread information without them being able to control it. The computer I have could already get me into trouble." Erianna smiled. "I hope no one will ever find out that Jeren removed some parts from several of the old Health Center computers that had been sorted out to be discarded."

"So it would be better not to help you upgrade it," Trip assumed.

"Oh, I wouldn't care about the risk. But like I said you can't get the necessary parts."

Trip shrugged. "Our shuttlepod is full of them."

"What?" Erianna and Jeren cried in unison while Malcolm was grinning broadly. He had known from the beginning what Trip was getting at.

"Your shuttlepod? But, but you're still going to need it," Erianna stammered. "You can't take out the computer parts. Or can you?"

"Well, only few of the parts are still where they're supposed to be, anyway," Trip grinned. "And this shuttlepod won't fly again, at least not here on Renelan. So I think we could find a better use for some of the parts."

"You would really do this?" Erianna was buzzing with excitement. "Trip, that would be, would be... just wonderful."

"It's okay, if we can help your cause."

Erianna leaned back in her chair, smiling, then suddenly she jumped up. "I have to tell Arissa."

"Please don't." Jeren grabbed her arm. "It wouldn't surprise me if Tasur had bugged our communication device. Don't take the risk. But you can ask Arissa to visit you tomorrow, so you can talk about whether Trip and Malcolm can stay at her place for some time." He turned to the two men. "Arissa and her husband Yanis are our best friends. They're absolutely trustworthy, and both members of the resistance movement as well."

"They have all reason to work against the government," Erianna said, sighing.

"What do you mean?"

"Yanis' mother, Malika, broke her leg when she fell down the stairs two years ago. Yanis and Arissa were clever enough not to call their family doctor, but Jeren. He was able to save her."

"Save her may be somewhat exaggerated," Jeren said in a regretting tone. "Like I said we can't really treat broken bones. I did all I could, but Malika's leg didn't heal properly. She's kept a rather strong limp. A limp that wouldn't be tolerated by the Renelan society. So we simulated her death. If someone found out she's still alive, the consultants would come to get her in a matter of hours. So she hides in the basement of Yanis and Arissa's house. But I believe sometimes she regrets having accepted my help. She doesn't have any social life anymore, she can't go outside and always lives in fear of discovery. That's no life and I can't even blame her for having these feelings. Of course Arissa and Yanis are afraid that some day she'll make the same decision as our father. But it's very interesting that she's over 50 years old and shows no signs of CDS, although with her weakened immune system she would be the perfect victim."

"But no one ever forced her to go to the examination and injected her with T-14," Trip reasoned.

"Exactly, and that's another point on our list. But we can't take advantage of it without endangering Malika. It's different with you. We'll protect you until your ship arrives, preparing our documentation in the meantime and as soon as you are safe on Enterprise we'll present our evidence to the public. Let's hope we'll be able to change something."

"But wouldn't your friends take a great risk by hiding us?" Malcolm wanted to know.

"I don't expect Tasur to do something within the next two days. Not until Dorsik has proof about your blood containing a cure to this self-made illness. You'll become dangerous to the government the moment Dorsik detects it. Then it would be better not to be here anymore. If Tasur wants to know where you are we'll tell him your ship came to get you and you were very sorry that there wasn't any time to personally say good-bye or to introduce your captain to him. I guess his wish to keep you in his palace was just a pretense to keep you under his supervision, so no one would find out that there's something special about your blood. I think he wasn't interested in meeting your captain at all. In any case, you're safe at Yanis and Arissa's place. And Malika would be glad to care for you. Sometimes I'm worried about her. Her depressions have become worse."

"Which is understandable, considering how she's forced to live," Erianna said. "But Arissa's first baby was born a few months ago, and that gave Malika new energy and courage to face her life."

Jeren smiled. "The baby worked a miracle. For Malika it's a reason to go on living. And I'm glad for Arissa and Yanis. It was really time, since Arissa is already thirty."

"Jeren," Erianna admonished her brother.

"Time? Why? At thirty, you're not too old to get pregnant, are you?" Trip looked at Erianna, questioningly, but it was Jeren who answered.

"If you assume a live span of fifty or at the most fifty-five years you're actually quite old at thirty. That's another problem our government has to deal with. If they intend to let the people die at the age of fifty they'll have to ensure that those people won't leave a lot of orphans behind."

Malcolm frowned. "And how can you ensure that?"

"By making sure people don't get pregnant after a certain point in time," Erianna said, an undercurrent of anger in her voice.

Jeren looked at Trip and Malcolm. "The women on Renelan get sterilized at the age of thirty-two, the men at the age of thirty-four. So it's guaranteed the children are out of the woods when the parents are infected with CDS."

Jeren never got an answer. His words had taken their breath away. Their mouths open, the two humans stared at him. "You get what?" Trip finally gasped. Looking at Erianna, his gaze flickered. "But you are..."

"I'm thirty-five. Six years older than Jeren. But it has its advantages when your brother is a physician. Jeren has forged my personal file."

"So you're not..."

"No, I'm not. But of course I have to be really careful now. Jeren would get into big trouble if I got pregnant, and on a planet which hasn't enough space to build prisons the consequences wouldn't be very pleasant. But I guess there's no danger of that happening." A faint longing was to be heard in Erianna's voice, the longing for an own family, for a husband and a baby of her own.

Trip and Malcolm glanced at each other. They had both heard this longing but didn't know what to say. Trip decided to change the subject. "But if Jeren was able to forge you file, why can't he delete your name from this ominous black list?"

"With my code, I can only access medical data," Jeren told them. "I can't get through to the other entries. Of course I would have done something to help my sister if I could."

Erianna stood up. "Okay, after letting you in on all of Renelan's dark secrets I'd like to leave all that behind me for some time. What about dinner?"

* * *

 

Trip was plain exhausted when Jeren brought him to the bedroom some hours later. While Malcolm used the bathroom he allowed himself a few minutes of rest. He closed his eyes but his thoughts kept wandering. It was hard to believe what they had learned about Renelan. Its perfect, paradise-like peace was as deceiving as Malcolm's Fata Morgana. Trip was horrified by the cold-blooded way the government kept the population in check, although he could see the necessity of keeping the population at bay. He didn't approve of anything he had heard this afternoon, but Renelan would be doomed if the population exceeded a certain number. He wondered whether Erianna and Jeren and their resistance movement could offer a different solution to the problem after they had started their transmission that would doubtlessly agitate the people. Standing by and watching all older Renelans get killed was out of the question, but he couldn't imagine any humanly possible way to maintain a balance of power.

Malcolm sat down next to him on the bed. "I knew there was something fishy about this planet," he said.

"And of course you were right, Lieutenant. You seem to have an unerrin' instinct where these things are concerned."

Suspiciously, Malcolm looked at Trip. He wasn't so sure whether Trip was complimenting or kidding him, so he decided to drop the subject.

"I wonder whether Erianna and her friends could really change that much with this documentation," he said.

"It's a pity we won't be around to find out. As you heard, they will start the documentation only when we're back on Enterprise."

"And if Enterprise doesn't find us?"

"They will."

"But they should have already been here yesterday, or even the day before yesterday."

Trip sighed. "Malcolm, I don't have to tell you that only a little malfunction in the warpdrive would delay their arrival for days."

"But it's also possible they never got the message."

"Don't be so pessimistic, Malcolm. There's no reason why it should've been lost. And even if it was, the subspace amplifier was powerful enough to be detected by T'Pol's scanners, although I guess it didn't stay intact for long in this asteroid field. But it was enough for them to locate its position."

"Okay, so Enterprise has got our message and they'll be coming for us soon. Let's talk hypothetically. As you said it can take a while. Do you want to hide all the time?"

"There seems to be no alternative. At least not until this T-14 is out of my blood and I'm able to walk again. But I'm hopin' Jon won't let us wait for so long."

"But if worst comes to worst, do you think you could get accustomed to the thought of staying here for a longer period of time?"

Trip raised his eyebrows. "Would you like bein' sterilized?"

Malcolm shrugged. "It's your turn first, Commander. You can tell me about it."

Trip snorted. No way would he comply with the absurd laws of this planet. But Malcolm had a point. He knew for sure that Jon would find them but he had no idea when it was going to happen. The unpredictabilities of space were too great to even approach an estimation. He was sure Enterprise had encountered some problems, otherwise she would've been here already. Trip had no idea whether these problems were technical failures or something completely different, but the odds that they were stuck here on this planet were increasing with every day. And the prospects didn't look very bright, especially for him, the only handicapped person on the whole planet.


	21. Chapter 21

The next morning they went to check on the shuttle. In order to be able to find the way on his own the next time, Malcolm mapped the route with his scanner. After half an hour they had reached the clearing, and Jeren landed the flitter next to the shuttle.

While Malcolm did his best to explain the shuttle's various functions to Erianna, Trip once again crawled under the helm console. It was a pity to take apart all the jury-rigged conduits, but since this shuttle wasn't going to be flying again any time soon, there was no reason not to use the spare parts for other purposes. After a while the box standing beside Trip was filled with conduits, circuit boards, condensers, control units and transistors. He'd taken a look at Erianna's computer this morning, but he still had no idea if these spare parts would be of any use if he tried to improve the old-fashioned machine. Erianna seemed to have high expectations of his technical skills, and while Trip was confident that he would be able to do something, he didn't know if he was going to be able to adapt Starfleet technology to the Renelan computer systems.

Trip yawned. Compared to the oppressive heat he had been forced to put up with out in the desert, these were perfect working conditions, but still he could feel himself getting tired again. He had also slept very well last night, so why was he feeling so exhausted yet again? Trip was beginning to get frustrated. How could he ever finish his work when his eyes were drooping all the time, and he was all but falling asleep? With an effort, he managed to suppress another yawn.

"You should take a rest," he heard Jeren's voice, and sighed. With his perfect hearing, the doctor had of course noticed Trip's attempts at hiding his weariness. "Can't Malcolm take care of that?"

Trip, busying himself with loosening another circuit board, decided to ignore Jeren's words, but the doctor would have none of that.

"Trip, I know you heard me, so don't play dumb with me. I want to know if Malcolm can take care of that job."

"Yeah, of course he can, but I'm almost done. Half an hour or so, and I'll..."

"Watch your head, Trip!"

The engineer didn't have time to wonder what the doctor was up to; all he could do was obey and let go of the circuit board as he suddenly felt Jeren's hands on his legs and was pulled out from under the helm console.

The doctor's features were angry. "I told you to rest."

"Man, you're nearly as bad as our doctor back on Enterprise," Trip joked, trying to ease the tension. He didn't feel very comfortable, lying on the floor and looking up at Jeren's grim face.

"I'm not surprised your healing process isn't improving. You're simply too stubborn to listen when your body tells you it has had enough."

"Hear, hear!" Trip could clearly hear the laughter in Malcolm's voice.

Without any visible effort, Jeren picked him up and lifted him onto the bunk. "Tell Malcolm what he has to do and get some rest."

"It's still early in the mornin', Jeren," Trip objected. "I can't be tired from an hour of work."

"Come on, Trip, I know you were hiding a yawn." Jeren sighed and sat down on the bunk beside him. "Listen," he said in a calmer tone, "I know, it's hard for you, feeling so weak, but you have to understand what's going on. There are two substances fighting each other in your body. This would be enough to weaken you even without putting any extra strain on your muscles. You have to be more careful, or it will take months before you'll be able to walk again. Do you want that?"

Trip shook his head.

"So stop playing the hero, and let Malcolm finish the job. I'm sure he knows what to do."

Trip looked at Malcolm who had crawled under the dirty helm console, and all of a sudden his place on the bunk didn't seem so uncomfortable. He lay down on his side, looking at Malcolm's legs sticking out from under the console, and again he found his thoughts returning to what Jeren had told them about Renelan's political situation.

"You know, I was wonderin'... what if your documentation is successful, after all?" He looked at Jeren. "What if all Renelans suddenly refuse to be injected with T-14? Nobody will get ill anymore, and people will be gettin' old. I'm not sayin' this is a bad thing, but what about the problem of overpopulation?"

"We've thought about that, of course." Jeren looked at him and sighed. "Unfortunately though, we don't have a solution either. But we have to stop the killing."

"Yeah, of course you have to. But the governors will have to think of other possibilities to keep a check on Renelan's population. And who knows what ideas they'll come up with."

Jeren chewed on his bottom lip. "Erianna had a good idea, but unfortunately it can't be realized."

"Tell us about it." Trip propped himself up on his elbows, and from the corner of his eye saw Malcolm emerging from under the console.

"Erianna has made friends with an Alkiran merchant." Jeren threw a knowing glance at his sister. "Perhaps a little more than just friends," he added, and smiled when Erianna blushed slightly. "We got to know him and his colleagues when I treated one of them at the Health Center. It was only a case of flu, but Tasur panicked. He threatened to take measures if they didn't leave at once, bringing their ill man away from Renelan. The merchants were very upset, and understandably so; after all, they had travelled quite far to do business with our people. We hid them in our house for a few days, because the sick man wasn't in the condition to travel. Erianna and her friends spread the news how Tasur treats his alien guests, and you can imagine that he didn't like that very much."

"Jeren," Erianna interrupted her brother. "I don't think Trip and Malcolm are interested in this old story. Maybe if you concentrated on the facts..."

"We're interested in all things concernin' your planet," Trip said.

"But Erianna is right. I was digressing. Well, we learned that Alkira has a lot of uninhabited regions. There are hardly any deserts and they have more rich farmland than they can use. Alkira would be able to take in a great number of new settlers."

Malcolm frowned. "So you think a part of your population could move to another planet? Just like that?"

"We were told that Alkira's culture is very similar to Renelan's. There's no real difference between us and the Alkiran people. I suppose we may have the same ancestors but no one can tell for sure, since all of this must have happened a long time ago. And to tell the truth, I'm not surprised that there's no way to research these things." Jeren smiled bitterly. "I bet there are enough Renelans who would prefer a long life on Alkira to a premature death on Renelan."

Erianna continued, "The problem is that Renelan doesn't really have any space technology. I was desperately hoping for a space program to be developed. It would have given us the chance to build a colony on Alkira. This was one of the subjects our mother often argued about with Tasur. She saw Alkira as our only chance. But Tasur never listened to her. He used to say..."

"Now who isn't concentrating on the facts?" Jeren interrupted, and threw his sister an amused glance. "The problem is very simple: we don't have any possibilities to travel to Alkira."

"But the Alkirans do have spaceships?"

"Cargo ships. They're not big, and not very fast either. With those ships, the Alkirans need more than two months to reach Renelan. After the last incident with Tasur I wouldn't be surprised if they stopped doing business with us altogether. We don't have any way of contacting them, even if the Renelan government agreed to our suggestion of building a colony there."

Trip looked at Malcolm and saw his own smile mirrored on the lieutenants face.

"You know what?" Trip said, looking first at Jeren, then at Erianna. "I think you should talk to our cap'n."

"To your captain? Why?" Jeren threw him a questioning look, but Erianna smiled. She seemed to know what he was getting at.

Malcolm stood up, wiping the sandy dust off his uniform. "Enterprise is not a cargo ship," he explained. "And I believe she can go somewhat faster than a freighter." He looked at Trip. "You scanned this system, Trip. What do you think? How long would it take Enterprise to get from Renelan to Alkira? Half an hour?"

"I think so. It would be far less with warp 5, but we can't go to top speed within a system."

Trip smiled when he saw his friends' perplexed expressions. "Warp 5," Erianna whispered in awe. "Your ship can go as fast as warp 5?"

Malcolm grinned. "Looks like she can't without her chief engineer. Or they'd be already here. But under normal circumstances we can reach warp 5, that's right."

"I suggest that when Enterprise arrives we have a word with our cap'n and our science officer. Perhaps we can help you somehow." Trip deliberately kept his offer a bit vague, since he didn't know if Jon would agree to help resettle several thousand colonists to another planet. But he was quite sure the captain would agree to take Jeren and Erianna to Alkira so they could talk to the Alkiran government. Maybe this would be a start to convince Renelan's governors that Renelan's future didn't lie in the killing of its people.

* * *

 

"You'll manage on your own?" Jeren asked them on their flight back. "If it is alright with you, I'd like to go back to the Health Center to do some more tests. I was able to extract the cure from Trip's blood yesterday, and I'd like to try and adapt it to the Renelan metabolism. We'd have a cure for CDS, if it works."

"That would be great, Jeren." Erianna smiled. "I think we'll manage on our own just fine. Arissa promised to drop by in the afternoon. She'll bring the baby with her. We'll do the interview with Trip and prepare the documentation. We can take Trip and Malcolm to Arissa's place as soon as you're back."

"Alright. I'll drop you off at our house."

* * *

 

Trip leaned back in the comfortable wicker chair he was sitting in. The chair was fastened to a branch, slightly swinging back and forth in the afternoon's light breeze. Trip's naked toes dragged over the grass with every movement. He liked the feeling. In a way it was silly, but the soft grass had looked so inviting that he had asked Erianna to take off his shoes and socks so he would be able to feel it under his soles. It brought back memories of his childhood. Sleepily, Trip closed his eyes and enjoyed the breeze on his face, his thoughts returning to the events of the last few hours. Together with Malcolm, he had spent about five hours working on Erianna's computer - which might be considered sophisticated by Renelan standards but to Trip was nothing but an old fossil. It only had a 30 gigabyte hard disc and lacked most of the equipment Trip was used to. Erianna had been watching them with great interest. Considering her Renelan background, she knew quite a lot about computers, but Trip and Malcolm both knew a lot more about the functions of computer hardware and of course had more practice and experience. Erianna hadn't felt very comfortable when they had started to take her computer apart, fearing she might lose her data. But Malcolm had assured her that they had already managed to build whole phase cannons from scratch and that a simple computer was only a matter of routine to them. Granted, Malcolm had exaggerated a little, but after that Erianna had left the men to their work, and had gone to work on her documentation. When they were done, they had succeeded in upgrading the old computer so that it was almost as good as one of the computer stations aboard Enterprise.

After lunch Arissa had come. Trip had felt rather uncomfortable, meeting the woman who had helped washing him and putting cream on his skin when he had been suffering from the after-effects of their ordeal in the desert. But Arissa had only smiled at him.

"Hey, these stubbly hairs on your face are gone," she stated when she saw him. She had her baby with her, a squirming little boy of about four months who was chuckling and giggling all the time. Ignoring the ironic twitch in the corner of Malcolm's mouth, Trip held him on his lap while Erianna showed Arissa the new computer in the basement.

"I'm impressed, you boys are really good," Arissa said when she came back, picking up her baby from Trip's lap.

"Trip's the best engineer I've ever known," Malcolm said. "I don't think there are any technical or electronic devices he can't handle."

Trip knew that Malcolm was right but hearing it said aloud made him feel somewhat embarrassed.

Erianna smiled at him. "Would you mind if we started with the interview?" she asked. "I thought you and Malcolm could tell our people about how you got infected with T-14 and what this substance has done to you. I'll integrate your story into Jeren's explanation that T-14 is the reason why there's CDS, and not a cure of some sort. He'll also tell our people about his efforts to synthesize an antidote, with your blood as the base of his research project."

"You already have his statement?" Trip asked.

"Yes, we recorded it yesterday while the two of you were staying at Tasur's place. At first, Jeren was against having you in our little show. He said he didn't want to put you in danger, but I was able to convince him that without you telling your story nobody was going to believe us."

"Okay, let's begin."

It had taken two hours of hard work until Erianna had finally been satisfied with the results. They were only just watching the tape once again when they heard a knock on the door. Quickly, Arissa and Malcolm put away the recording device while Erianna went to open the door. It was Farina, shyly asking if she could talk to Malcolm. With a look over her shoulder Erianna assured herself that no evidence of their activities was to be seen, before she let Farina in.

Farina nodded amiably at Arissa and Trip, then turned to Malcolm and repeated her offer to go for a walk together.

"That's a nice offer, Farina," Malcolm began, "but..."

"Don't tell me you can't leave your commander on his own. He won't be alone here."

Malcolm couldn't deny that fact, but he felt uncomfortable, leaving Trip alone with Erianna and Arissa. Still, he didn't want to offend Farina who was almost begging him to accompany her.

Trip motioned for Malcolm to come over to where he was sitting so they could have a word in private. "C'mon, Mal, she came only so she could go for a walk with you. You'll hurt her feelings if you don't go. You heard Jeren. I'm safe as long as Dorsik doesn't find out about the cure, which will happen tomorrow at the earliest. So there's no reason for you to stay here and play the babysitter. Erianna and Arissa can take care of me."

"I have a bad feeling leaving you on your own, Trip."

Trip sighed. "Don't you think you're bein' a little overprotective, Lieutenant? Really, Mal, what could happen to me here? You don't have to stay away for long, but that girl really seems to like you. Hell, if I were you she wouldn't have to beg me to come for a walk with her."

"But you are not me," Malcolm answered stiffly.

"No, I'm not, but what's wrong with havin' some fun once in a while?"

"Fun?" Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "This has nothing to do with fun, Commander. If I'm going for a walk with her she'll think I'm interested in her and I don't want to lie to her."

"You're not lyin' to her, Malcolm. You're just goin' for a walk. Look, if we're stuck here for a while it would be helpful to have good connections to the governor. Maybe she can even convince her father to let me stay alive." Trip bit his lip when he saw Malcolm's shocked face. "Dammit, Malcolm, I was just jokin'. I don't think Tasur would try to kill me, he just doesn't want his people to find out about the cure. Now go and take Farina out for a walk, before I do it."

"I wouldn't mind."

"But unfortunately she doesn't want me. See ya, Malcolm."

* * *

 

That had been an hour ago, and it seemed like Malcolm enjoyed Farina's company, after all. Trip yawned, rubbing a hand over his face. After working on the documentation for another half an hour, Erianna had stated that he looked tired, and told him he could either go and lie down for a while, or sit in the deck-chair on the verandah or the wicker chair in the garden. Like Jeren she refused to discuss his condition and finally Trip gave in, choosing to sit in the garden. He still felt slightly embarrassed, remembering how Erianna had effortlessly picked him up and carried him out to the wicker chair. He knew Renelans were stronger than humans, but that didn't help him feeling better about being carried around by a woman.

Wearily, he watched her weed the vegetable beds. He guessed weeds were some of the constants you could find on every planet. Erianna looked very pretty, kneeling between vegetables of which Trip didn't even know the names. He knew that she would prefer being with Arissa in the basement working on the computer, but he hadn't been able to persuade her to leave him out here on his own. Actually, he was grateful she hadn't left. Without her help he couldn't even get out of this chair. Feeling a sudden surge of anger, Trip stared down at his useless, dangling legs. How long would it take until he could move them again? Trip wasn't fooling himself. He knew that those exhausting days out in the desert had been slowing down his recovery. Jeren was right. He had to find a compromise between rest and activity. A way he could weaken the poison and at the same time help the cure to take effect. Perhaps in a few weeks he would be able to stand up to take a few steps. He was so damned fed up with this helplessness. It was so frustrating, being carried around all the time. A little while ago when Erianna had insisted that he rest while at the same time Arissa had put her baby to bed for an afternoon nap, Trip had had to bite back a sarcastic remark. But Erianna wasn't to blame for his condition, she was only worried about him. He knew he should be grateful that she and Jeren took care of him, and allowed Malcolm and him to stay at their house as if they were old friends.

Trip started when he heard voices, some of which sounded vaguely familiar. Harek, Rassik and a third man who belonged to Tasur's guard were talking to Erianna, who was fiercely shaking her head. Trip's heart began pounding in his chest. This wasn't just a duty call. He wondered what they were here for. Bringing him back to the governor? Trip tried to get out of the wicker chair but stopped when it began to swing slightly. He realized he'd only end up falling out of the chair, and he certainly had no wish to look up at the men from the ground.

Harek was still talking to Erianna while the other men took a searching look around the garden. They're looking for Malcolm, it suddenly came to Trip's mind. No, this was no duty call, indeed. Harek took Erianna's arm. Angrily, she shook him off. Trip remembered what Jeren had said about Erianna and Harek being good friends some time ago. There didn't seem to be much left of those feelings. Erianna's face was red with anger and Trip was sure the discussion was about him, although he couldn't understand a word. Suddenly Rassik lifted his weapon and hit Erianna on the head, hard. Trip watched in dismay as Erianna fell to the ground, and hated his useless legs more than ever before. There was nothing he could do. He was stuck in this chair when she needed his help. He couldn't even find out whether she was dead, or merely unconscious. Harek knelt down beside her and examined her quickly. Angrily he shouted at Rassik, who didn't seem to listen, though. He had turned to Trip, and a nasty grin spread in his face as he approached the wicker chair.

"What did you do to Erianna, you bastard?" Trip yelled. He was as furious as he could ever remember being. He would have given everything to be able to take a good swing at this guy and wipe the arrogance off his sneering face. The fact that he was stuck in this chair without any possibility to defend Erianna or even himself only served to fuel his anger.

Rassik came to a halt in front of him. In one hand he held the old-fashioned weapon he had used to knock Erianna down, in the other one he carried something that looked like a thin club. Harek and the other man stepped closer as well. Harek tried a smile. "We have orders to take you to the Health Center," he explained.

"What for?" Trip snapped, feeling his stomach give a lurch when part of his anger turned into fear. "So you can get rid of me?"

"Of course not, Commander. Only for some examinations. You won't be harmed."

"Says who? You?"

"Governor Tasur gives you his word."

"Enough talking." Rassik put his weapon into the holster on his hip, and before Trip had a chance to react, he took a step forward and, grabbing him by his arm, threw him out of the chair. Trip fell down hard, and it turned out that the grass wasn't so soft, after all. Furiously, he grabbed Rassik's ankle and gave it a sharp jerk. Thrashing his arms, Rassik tried to keep his balance, but it was no use. With a thud he landed on his butt. Watching him, Harek smiled thinly and not without sympathy for Trip. His face contorted with fury, Rassik jumped to his feet and raised his club, bringing it into contact with Trip's side. The moment an excruciating pain shot through his whole body, Trip realized the club was a zapstick. His arms and legs twitched uncontrollably as a strong electric shock went through them. Painful spasms went up and down his body, setting every nerve on fire. For a few terrible seconds his world was only pain. His own scream sounded painfully loud in his ears.

It felt like hours until he was able to control his arms again. His legs, in fact, continued to twitch for some more time, until they finally lay motionless on the ground again. The pain subsided and Trip cleared his throat.

"Hope you're feelin' better now," he said, hoping his voice wouldn't tremble too much. He had to voice his anger, even though he knew what Rassik could do to him, and steeled himself for the unbearable pain when Rassik raised the stick again.

But Harek held him back. "Stop it, Rassik," he ordered firmly. "You don't torture a helpless man. That wasn't necessary."

"He attacked me," Rassik growled.

"He can't even stand on his own feet. Do you really think he is a threat to us?"

Contemptuously, Rassik looked down to Trip. "You've seen the scratches he gave me, Harek. I'm just being careful."

Trip realized he had just come across two bits of information. First, Rassik had been the attacker who had almost choked him back at the picnic place, and, second, Harek knew about the attack. In some way Trip was disappointed by this fact.

Harek laughed. "Come on, it was just a few scratches. Every man has the right to defend himself when he's being attacked. Even if we think of him as a helpless person."

Harek's voice grew angry when Rassik raised the zapstick again. "It's enough, Rassik. Put that thing away. We have orders to bring him to the Health Center and that's exactly what we're going to do. Without torturing him. Understood?"

Harek grabbed Trip's arm with one hand and his leg with the other and turned him onto his stomach. Pushing one knee into his back, he pinned him down, making it impossible for Trip to squirm away. Trip tried to lash out, trying to hit Harek, but the guard effortlessly caught his arms.

"Sorry, my friend," he said, holding Trip's hands in an iron grip and tying a leather string around his wrists. "But Rassik's right. We've underestimated you and I won't let it happen again. This is your own fault."

Trip heard the genuine sympathy in Harek's voice but it didn't make any difference. With his hands tied behind his back he was helpless, and there was no way for him to offer resistance, let alone escape. Harek took hold of his right arm and nodded at the third man, who had only watched up until now, to take the other one. Together they lifted him up and dragged him along.

"What about Erianna?" Trip asked, when he saw his friend lying motionless on the ground.

"She'll come to very soon." Anger crept in Harek's voice when he continued. "Rassik can be a little hot-headed and tends to overreact sometimes. Don't worry, her injuries aren't serious. She'll only have a headache when she wakes up."

Trip hoped that Arissa wouldn't notice what was going on in the garden. Putting her and maybe even her baby in danger was the last thing he wanted. He wished Malcolm would choose this moment to suddenly appear at the garden gate, but unfortunately he didn't. This time, there would be no rescue at the very last moment.

They dragged him to a big flitter they had parked behind the house. When Trip awkwardly lifted his head he recognized the governor's shimmering emblem on the side of the craft. The flitter was nearly twice as large as Jeren's and had two bunks behind the seats. Harek and his colleague lifted him inside the flitter and sat him down on one of the benches. Carefully, Harek helped him lie down and even lifted his legs onto the bench. Still, lying on his hands which were still tied behind his back wasn't very comfortable, and Trip shifted as he felt the circulation in his hands being cut off. His muscles were still trembling because of the electric shock Rassik had given him, and added to his discomfort. While the third man took his seat at the helm, Harek and Rassik sat down beside him, carefully keeping their eyes on him.

"Why are you doin' this?" Trip asked Harek who didn't seem to be feeling very comfortable.

"You know why. We were ordered to bring you to the Health Center. Dorsik wants to examine you. Perhaps he'll be able to help you."

"Help me?" Trip snorted in annoyance. "They're more likely to kill me."

Harek shook his head. "Why would they do that?"

"Because I'm endangerin' the governor's politics. My legs aren't paralyzed as a consequence of our crash in the desert. The paralysis is caused by a substance you know as T-14, which is believed to be the cure for CDS. With my blood, Jeren would be able to prove that T-14 isn't the cure but the cause of the disease."

"That doesn't make sense. Why would someone try to cause a disease?"

"To keep a check on the population. Without people dying of CDS your planet would be hopelessly overpopulated by now. But there's another reason why they want me out of the way. I also have the antidote in my blood. A real antidote. With a little more research, all Renelans sufferin' from CDS could be cured. Tasur wants to stop that from happenin', and that's why he ordered you to bring me to the Health Center."

"I don't believe this."

"It's the truth." Trip looked Harek straight in the eyes. Harek lowered his gaze and looked away.

"I've had enough of your lies." Rassik took a piece of fabric, crumpled it up and forced it brutally into Trip's mouth. He fastened the gag so tightly that the fabric cut painfully into the corners of Trip's mouth, smirking when Trip shot him an angry glance. Trip looked at Harek, mutely begging him to remove the gag, to listen to him, not to bring him to the Health Center. But Harek turned away from him, his gaze unsteady, and looked out the window. It was easier for him just to follow his orders and not to deal with the doubts lurking at the back of his mind.


	22. Chapter 22

Satisfied, Jeren looked at the phial in his hand that contained some milliliters of the antidote he had synthesized from Trip's blood sample. This could be Renelan's last chance. It was still based on human blood, and adapting it to the Renelan metabolism would require a lot more tests, but Jeren was confident that he would succeed in doing so. He put the phial aside and sat down at the computer that had just finished some complicated calculations to itemize the compounds of Malcolm's uncontaminated blood.

If he knew about the difference between human and Renelan blood it would be only a small step to designing the cure.

Jeren wanted to save the test's results on his disc, but accidentally pressed a wrong key. The screen went black. Oh no! Jeren bit his lip. Had the results been erased, or had they just vanished in the depth of the computer? Jeren sighed deeply, wishing Erianna were here. She knew a lot more about computers than he ever would. He wasn't very skilled where technical things were concerned and had only learned to do what he needed for his work. In fact, the Health Center's sophisticated and powerful computers were still a mystery to him. Only few people had gotten the opportunity to learn more about computers, since the advanced models had been restricted to science and research. Jeren had to admit it was a very effective method to prevent a worldwide information web, but the disadvantages for physicians like him were enormous. Frustrated, he started a search for his lost results. It would be more than annoying if he had to do all the tests from scratch. He couldn't believe that an advanced computer like this one would simply delete all the data on the screen without his explicit order to do so.

Jeren frowned when he found a strange directory he was sure he hadn't created. He gasped for his breath when he opened the files that contained all the tests and examinations he had completed during the last days. Being very cautious where these things were concerned, he never saved the results on the hard disc, but only on the floppy he took home with him every day. It seemed, however, that the computer had secretly produced a backup file of every single test and had saved the data in this directory. All of his examinations of Trip and Malcolm's blood, all his knowledge about T-14 and even about the cure were neatly recorded. Jeren's mind was racing, and he hardly noticed that his hands had grown ice cold. He was going to kill this snitch Kenan for this. The man was lucky he had to assist another physician today and hadn't shown up here up to now. But Kenan wasn't important at the moment. Important was the question whether he had already delivered these tests to Tasur. Jeren's anger boiled up again when he thought about the consequences Kenan's betrayal could have. If Dorsik knew all about the T-14 in Trip's blood and about the cure it wasn't necessary for him to do his own tests. Then Trip was in great danger. He and Malcolm were no longer safe at Jeren's home. He had to call Erianna and tell her to go to Arissa immediately.

The door to the laboratory flew open, revealing a very agitated Kenan. "Jeren, do you know..."

Jeren started, grabbed Kenan's arm, pressed his elbow against the other man's throat and slammed him against the wall. "Yeah I do know, you dirty little spy. Have you already told them about my latest results? Does Dorsik know already? Tell me before I strangle you with my bare hands."

Kenan looked at him with big eyes. "What are you talking about, Jeren? I'm not a spy. I'm a member of the resistance movement. But that isn't important now. They just brought your friend to the left wing."

Jeren stared at him, perplexed. "My friend?"

"Yes, the one who can't walk." Carefully, Kenan took Jeren's arm and slowly pulled it away from his throat. "I saw him when I came out of the laboratory. His hands were tied behind his back and they had gagged him. It was clear that he isn't here of his own will. You have to do something, Jeren, and soon. I've seen Dorsik here. That's not a good sign."

Jeren still was staring at Kenan. He felt totally numb. So many thoughts whirled through his mind, he wasn't able to make sense of them. Trip was here? And what about Erianna? What about Malcolm and Arissa? They surely hadn't just stood by and allowed the governor's men to take Trip away. Had they been harmed? Was there anything he could do for Trip? He had no permission to enter the left wing. And Dorsik surely had brought some guards with him. Could he even trust Kenan? Perhaps all of this was some sort of trap. If he wasn't the spy then who else could it be?

"Jeren!" Kenan grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Don't just stand there! If you don't do something now, it will be too late to save your friend."

Jeren pulled himself together, deciding to trust Kenan. He turned around and ran to the entrance hall. The secretary's curious gaze followed him as he walked towards the two consultants who were sitting on call in front of the big double door; two colleagues Jeren always had liked in spite of their profession. He doubted that the consultants even knew what they were doing here. He supposed most of them still believed that they were only providing a better medical care for those people that they were going to send to the left wing so they could be treated by the "specialists".

The consultant sitting on the left looked up and smiled at Jeren. "Where are you going, Jeren?"

"A friend of mine was just brought in. I have to talk to him."

The consultant shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jeren," he said regretfully. "You're not allowed to enter the left wing."

"Please, could you make an exception for once?"

"Is your friend hurt?" the other consultant asked. "Dorsik is on duty today. I'm sure he can help him."

Jeren took a deep breath. It was futile. He couldn't explain to the consultants that Dorsik was here to kill Trip rather than to help him. They would never believe him. He had to come up with something different. Most importantly, he needed more time to develop a rescue plan.

"I don't think so," he told them with a sad expression. "My friend is suffering from CDS in the final stage. I'm not going to see him again."

"I'm really sorry to hear that, Jeren," the first consultant said. "But you know the rules. You should have said good-bye before when there was still time."

"I didn't know his condition would deteriorate so rapidly. Please do me a favor. Make sure Dorsik will allow him to talk to a counselor."

The second consultant frowned. "That's the usual procedure."

"But my friend isn't from Renelan. Dorsik might think he can ignore the Renelan customs in his case."

The two consultants looked at each other. "Letting him talk to a counselor is the least you can do for a dying person," the first one said resolutely, then turned to Jeren. "I'll take care of this, you can count on me."

"Thank you. Please ask him to greet my friend from me. Tell him I think of him."

"I promise." The consultant got up and squeezed Jeren's arm in sympathy, then he took a keycard out of his shirt's pocket and opened the door with it. Jeren watched him until the doors slid shut then he headed for his laboratory.

* * *

 

Arissa looked up when she heard her baby cry. She had been totally concentrated on the documentation, and now she wondered how late it was. Well, no matter; at any case it was time to feed her baby. She stood up and stretched. You could lose your sense of time in this basement, she thought. She walked upstairs and went into Trip and Malcolm's bedroom where her baby lay on the bed. Smiling, she picked him up. "Hush, dear, just a minute. You'll get your dinner in a few minutes." With the boy in her arms, Arissa stepped to the window to see what Trip and Erianna were doing. She frowned when she saw the empty wicker chair swinging softly in the wind. Where was Trip? Had Erianna taken him somewhere else? With her eyes, Arissa searched the garden, then suddenly her eyes grew wide and she inhaled sharply. Hastily, she laid the baby back onto the bed and ran outside, ignoring the little boy's angry wails. She fell to her knees beside Erianna who lay motionless next to the vegetable beds.

"Erianna? Are you hurt? What happened?" Gently, Arissa shook her friend's shoulders. She was deeply shocked when she saw the dried blood on the back of her head. What had happened here?

Erianna groaned softly. Relieved, Arissa helped her sit up. Erianna placed a hand on her forehead, then, with a start she looked up.

"Where's Trip?"

"I don't know. The chair is empty."

"So they've taken him."

"Who?"

"Tasur's guard. I just hope they haven't hurt him." Erianna touched the wound at the back of her head. Thinking of this brutal guy who had hit her, she feared the worst for Trip.

"Where could they've taken him?"

"I don't know. Maybe to the governor's palace. Or ..." Erianna didn't dare to voice her thoughts, but she felt an icecold shiver run down her spine.

The baby's crying grew louder and angrier. But there was another sound. Erianna tried to concentrate on it. She felt like a gray fog was hanging before her eyes, clouding her thoughts. Where was this signal coming from? Suddenly, she knew. It was the comm console back in the house. She wasn't in the mood for a chat with one of her friends but if there was even the slightest possibility that this call was about Trip, then she had to take it. Awkwardly, she came to her feet. "Take care of your baby," she told Arissa and stumbled into the house.

Erianna nearly began to cry with relief when she heard Jeren's voice. She was sure her brother would know what to do.

"Erianna, you okay?" Jeren was as relieved as well when he saw Erianna's face on the small monitor.

"Yes, but they've taken Trip."

"I know. He's here. They've brought him to the left wing."

"No." Knowing what this meant, Erianna felt hot tears of despair run down her face. "You have to get him out of there, Jeren. They're going to kill him."

"I know, but I have no chance to get into this part of the building. I have to force my way in and I can't do that alone. Where's Malcolm?"

"He's on a walk with Farina."

"You have to find him, Erianna. Do you know where he keeps their weapons?"

"Yes."

"Take them with you. Find Malcolm and then come here as fast as you can."

Erianna nodded and cut the call. There was no time for a polite good-bye. So Harek and Rassik had actually brought Trip to the Health Center to get him killed. She gritted her teeth. They couldn't let that happen.

She ran into the big bedroom where Arissa was trying to feed her baby. The boy felt his mother's nervousness, squirmed and kicked away the bottle. Erianna opened the drawer of the locker where Malcolm had stowed away the two phaser pistols. One after another she took them and put them in a bag.

Arissa looked at her with big eyes. "Are those weapons?" she asked.

"Sure are."

"If you get caught carrying these with you..." Arissa shook her head in silent desperation.

"They're going to kill Trip, Arissa. We have to rescue him and that is only possible if we use these weapons."

"I hope you'll find him." Arissa sighed. "Bring Trip to our place. He'll be safe there for the time being."

Erianna shot her friend a desperate look. I hope we're not too late, she thought wile she ran to her flitter.

* * *

 

Blankly, Trip stared at the wall. There was nothing else he could do. He'd been seated in a comfortable chair, but his hands still were tied behind his back and no one had bothered to remove the gag. But at least the trembling of his muscles had stopped. He looked around. The room was almost cozy. On a table there was even a vase with some flowers in it. A comfortable looking bed stood beside him. Trip wondered if this was the dying room. Perhaps the CDS-patients who came here to die could choose between the bed and the chair. But these things didn't concern him; he didn't want to die! In a way, he still hoped that Tasur and Dorsik weren't trying to get rid of him, but only wanted him out of sight. But if that were true, he would surely have been brought to the governor's palace and not to this part of the Health Center where people got killed. Him being in this room could only have one reason and a feeling of panic rose up in Trip's mind. He saw no way to get out of this one. Erianna had been severely hurt, and wasn't able to help him. Malcolm was still out with Farina and had no idea that his friend's life was in danger. Even Jeren, who wasn't very far away but only in the other wing of this building, had no idea what was going to happen to him.

Trip tried to swallow, but he couldn't because of the gag. He saw Dorsik standing at the room's entrance, talking to another man. Dorsik looked like he wasn't too happy with the other man's presence, but finally he gave in. With an annoyed expression, he nodded at the man and went over to Trip. Condescendingly, he looked down at him.

"The consultants insist on having a counselor talk to you. Do you believe in an afterlife, Commander?"

Because of the gag Trip couldn't answer even if he had wanted to. His stomach gave a lurch when the meaning of Dorsik's words came to his mind. Now he knew for sure; they really intended to kill him.

Dorsik kept watching him, and Trip tried to hide the fear which he knew showed on his face. Eventually, Dorsik stepped aside and Trip saw a tall, dark dressed man with a stern and dignified expression enter the room. Trip disliked him at once, remembering what Jeren had told them. The counselors were supposed to be able to convince everyone of the advantages of dying. He wouldn't allow this man to talk him into a death-wish. This counselor wouldn't get anywhere with him.

With a mild expression on his face, the counselor stepped closer, but frowned when he saw Trip.

"Why is this man tied up and gagged?" he asked, appalled.

"It's for his own safety," Dorsik explained. "He has proven to be violent before. We don't want him to hurt himself."

"That's humiliating," the counselor said indignantly. "Remove the restraints."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

The counselor shot Dorsik an annoyed glance before he bent over Trip and unfastened the gag.

"Thanks," Trip croaked, and licked his dry lips. When the counselor began to untie the rope around Trip's wrists, Dorsik stopped him. "No! The restraints stay where they are."

"You can't do that, Dorsik. The man has a right to be treated with dignity."

"Feel free to leave if you don't like the way I treat my patients."

For a moment Dorsik and the counselor stared angrily at each other, then the counselor gave in. Turning his back to Dorsik, he sat down in a chair. "I'm here to talk to you about the afterlife," he said to Trip in a kind voice. "Your friend Jeren sends his best regards. He wants you to know that he is thinking of you."

Trip tried to look unimpressed, but his mind began to race. Jeren knew he was here. He wasn't all alone like he had thought. If Jeren had sent this counselor to stall some time he was willing to listen to every nonsense the man might have to tell him. Feigning interest, Trip looked at the counselor, filled with renewed hope.

* * *

 

Malcolm had one arm resting on Farina's shoulders. He had to admit that he enjoyed the walk, but thinking of Trip he felt guilty. It was time to return back. But Farina pouted when she heard this. "You're always thinking of your commander. Isn't there anything else on your mind? I thought you liked me."

"Of course I like you, Farina. But you know as well as I do that this can't work. Look, as soon as Enterprise arrives I'll be away and I'll very likely never come back. I don't think you should waste your feelings on me."

"But you could stay here."

Malcolm looked at her, astonished. "Stay here?"

"Yes. You could join my father's guard. They're just waiting for a man with your abilities. I'm sure my father will let you command the guard. You could stay and marry me."

Malcolm's eyes grew wide. "What are you thinking? My place is aboard Enterprise."

"No! Your place is at my side. We could have children."

"Not so many, I guess," Malcolm objected sarcastically. "I'm thirty-two and I know what the Renelan government does to men when they are thirty-four."

"We could ask my father to grant you a delay. He could order to postpone the sterilization in your case."

"I don't want to be sterilized at all," Malcolm told her angrily. "Forget it."

"But you'll have to if you want to live with us. You have to adjust to our customs and traditions."

"And die at the age of fifty when I get infected with CDS?"

"You're not a Renelan. Perhaps you wouldn't fall ill at all."

"Oh yes, I would." Malcolm snorted. "Your CDS isn't a virus at all, but a poison they're infecting you with on purpose."

"Just listen to yourself, telling such nonsense." Farina laughed. "Did your commander tell you this crap? Maybe he's already infected with CDS. My father didn't believe his story about the torn nerves for a single moment."

"And what does he believe instead?" Malcolm tried to sound calm.

"I don't know and I don't care, either. But your commander has to accept our laws, too. I'm sure you believe in the afterlife as well, don't you? He'll be better off there. He just has to accept that it's the best for him to go. It would be the best for you, too, if he accepted this, because then you'd be free to stay with me."

Malcolm stopped in his tracks and grabbed Farina's shoulders. "What are you saying?"

"Ouch! You're hurting me." Farina looked at Malcolm, eyes filling with tears.

"I'm sorry." Malcolm loosened his grip. "But what is this talk about the afterlife supposed to mean? What has this to do with Trip?"

Farina squirmed out of his grip. "I heard my father talking to Dorsik about the commander, that he'd be better off in the afterlife. And they're right, Malcolm. He'd be able to walk again there. And you wouldn't have to look after him all the time but were free to spend your time with me." She paused, a hesitant smile spreading on her face. "Why don't you come and visit me tonight? My window is the second one from the right on the ground floor at the back of our house. I'll be waiting for you."

Malcolm didn't answer. He had heard enough. Turning around, he ran all the way back as fast as he could.

"Malcolm," Farina shouted indignantly. "What are you doing? You can't just leave me here! Come back!"

Malcolm hardly heard her, his blood pounding in his ears. What was going on here? Had Tasur and Dorsik decided to send Trip to this ominous afterlife? Were they going to kill him? But Jeren had said Trip was safe as long as Dorsik didn't know about the cure.

His boots were clacking on the garden path as he raced back the way they had come. Malcolm wished he could fly. Why had he ever left Trip on his own? He would never forgive himself if Trip had been harmed while he was away.

A flitter passed over his head, then turned around and came back. It was Erianna. "Malcolm! Get in here, quick. Trip's been kidnapped."

Seeing her face as she opened the flitter's hatch, Malcolm had already known that she was going to tell him bad news. He sat down beside Erianna and they sped off at maximum speed. Quickly, Erianna told Malcolm what had happened.

"My phaser," Malcolm said. "I need my phaser."

"Both weapons are in the bag behind you."

"Good. How long do we need to get there?"

"Flying at this speed approximately twenty minutes."

"Can't we go faster?"

"Believe me, Malcolm, I would break the sound barrier to save Trip, if I could." She glanced at the anxious man beside her. "I like him, too, you know."

Malcolm nodded. He hardly dared to breathe as if time would pass by faster if he did. He held the bag with the weapons so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Please don't let us be late, he begged no one in particular. They just couldn't be late.

* * *

 

Restlessly, Jeren looked at Kenan. "There must be something I can do. I have to know what's going on over there, but I can't even get past the consultants. I'd need a weapon to do so."

Kenan glanced at him. He was filling a few hyposprays. "You do have a weapon, Jeren," he said calmly. "Here, take one of these. And calm yourself. You can't help your friend if you allow yourself to get agitated."

Jeren swallowed and gave Kenan an apologizing look. "Kenan, I want to..." He bit his lip.

"It's okay, Jeren. I kind of knew you suspected I was a spy. You acted somewhat weird around me sometimes. There'll be time enough to talk about that after we've gotten your friend out of there. I just hope you know that you can trust me."

Jeren cleared his throat. "Yes, I know that now. But who else could have been snooping around in my computer?"

"You really don't know? Just think of who has all the door codes, as well as the codes for the main computer."

Jeren's eyes grew wide. "Sista?" he asked.

"I bet."

"Sista?" Jeren repeated and shook his head. "I don't believe this."

"Suit yourself. But we have to get past not only the consultants, but Sista as well. You can't take that risk."

"What are you suggesting?"

Kenan held up the other hypo. "I think Sista is in dire need of a nap."

Jeren nodded and looked at his watch. He only hoped that Erianna had found Malcolm and the two of them were on their way by now. If not then he would have to think of something to stop Dorsik. But he had to enter the other wing to do so. Thoughtfully, he stared at the small phial containing the cure. A cure for T-14. In the left wing, they were going to inject Trip with T-18. A much more aggressive form of the poison that would kill Trip within seconds. Jeren swallowed when he filled the cure into a hypo and put it in his pocket.

Followed by Kenan, he headed for the entrance hall. In spite of his desire to run he tried to walk not too hastily. The other people in the hall mustn't become suspicious. He leaned over Sista's desk and smiled. The secretary smiled back at him.

"Could it be, Sista, that you've been messing around with my computer?" Jeren asked, still smiling. Sista's jaw dropped the second Kenan stepped up behind her and injected her with the sedative. Sista fell forward, and Jeren caught her.

One of the consultants came running towards them. "What's wrong with her?"

"I think she's feeling sick," Jeren explained. "I'll take her to one of the sickrooms. It would be best if she lay down for a while. Kenan can stay at her desk until she feels better."

"Is there something I can do?"

"Thanks, but I'll manage."

The consultant nodded and went back to his chair. Jeren picked up the secretary and carried her into an empty room. Laying her down on the bed, he sadly regarded the face of the woman he had trusted for so many years. The guilty expression on her face had told him everything he needed to know. Kenan had been right, Sista had been spying on him and probably for a long time.

But it wasn't the time to be thinking about Sista. Carefully, he locked the door and went to Kenan who was busy with Sista's computer.

"Found something?" Jeren asked.

"Yes, looks like they are in the second-to-last room on the right."

Jeren nodded. "The dying room. Next to this one there's only one laboratory left where they examine the bodies if necessary."

"How do you know?"

"Not now, Kenan, I'll tell you later. Can you find out how many people there are in that room?"

Kenan pressed some keys. "Four, if these readings are correct. I suppose one of them is the counselor, another one has to be Trip, of course, then Dorsik and perhaps another physician. But there is at least one man standing guard in front of the door. One of Tasur's men, probably, and I'm sure he's armed. And there are several other people in the adjoining rooms and some of them might be guards as well."

"Malcolm, where are you?" Jeren mumbled.

"There's another problem," Kenan said. "This is a Health Center with people coming and going all the time. How are you going to force your way in there without someone noticing?"

"Can't we make an announcement that the Center is closed for today? Because of an emergency?"

Kenan pulled a face. "Oh great. A hospital is closed because of an emergency. And what are you going to tell the doctors?"

Thoughtfully, Jeren stared at the computer screen. "You can lock all the doors from here, can't you?"

Kenan's face brightened up. "Clever idea. They'd be stuck in whatever room they are in right now and it could be only a little computer bug." He grinned. "I'll even take the blame for that one. I'll say I simply pressed the wrong key. Looks like I underestimated our dear secretary, Sista's computer is more sophisticated than I thought." The sparkle in Kenan's eyes vanished. "But first we have to deal with the consultants."

"Okay, let's go." Jeren pulled the hypo from his pocket, and hid it in his fist. "By the way, what's in there?"

"Only a harmless sedative. They won't even get a headache."

"Good." Together with Kenan, Jeren approached the two men. He felt sorry the two consultants would get involved in this, but it was their own fault if they wouldn't let him in.

The two men looked at him questioningly, but not unfriendly.

"Is there something else, Jeren?"

"Yeah, could you help us please?"

"Of course. What can we do for you?"

Simultaneously, the consultants got up and fell back on their chairs like lifeless dolls when Jeren and Kenan injected them with the sedative. Jeren got the keycard from the pocket of the first consultant's shirt and opened the door.

"Wait," Kenan said as he watched the two doors slide into the wall. He blocked the door with the chair on which one of the consultants was slumped, unconscious. Jeren did the same on the other side. "Thank you for your help", he said to the unconscious man, then turned to Kenan. "Don't you think they could be seen from the entrance?"

Kenan shook his head. "Have you ever noticed how this corridor takes a slight curve after the entrance? You can't see the left wing from the entrance door."

"Really?" Surprised, Jeren turned around to find out that Kenan was right; he couldn't see the entrance from here. He had never noticed this before. Right then, he heard the whoosh of the door opening and closing again. His features brightened up when Erianna and Malcolm came running towards them.

"I thought you'd never come," Jeren sighed in relief.

"Do we still have time?" Erianna panted.

"I hope so. Kenan and I just made sure the consultants won't give us any trouble".

"Kenan?" Erianna frowned.

"Yes. I'll explain later, Erianna. Come on. Kenan, can you try and stop all new patients from coming in here? I hope this won't take too long."

* * *

 

The minutes passed by at snail pace, and still went by much too fast. Trip listened to the counselor talking and had to admit that Jeren had been right. The man did a good job. He assumed Trip was suffering from CDS and told him about the afterlife, a beautiful place where there were no diseases, harm or paralysis. Where he would be able to walk again. Trip tried to argue with the counselor and nearly drove him crazy. It seemed to Trip like the man wasn't used to patients talking back. Earnestly, he tried to convince Trip of the presence of the afterlife and asked him to trust him.

"Have you ever seen this afterlife for yourself?" Trip asked.

"No, of course not." The counselor smiled indulgently. "But I know it's there."

"Why? How can you be so certain when you've never seen it?"

"It's a question of faith. You do believe, don't you?"

"Yes, of course I do." I believe in Jeren coming to my rescue, Trip added in his thoughts, but he was sure the counselor wouldn't approve of this kind of belief. It was the man's own fault if he misinterpreted the engineer's words. "But I'd rather trust in the life I already have and enjoy it," Trip added provokingly.

"But there is nothing enjoyable about your life, anymore."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"I was told your legs are already paralyzed because of CDS, and we both know it's not going to stop there. Are you seriously telling me you still want to go on living?"

"You Renelans just don't have any idea what makes life worth livin'. There are so many things I want to live for." Trip felt a warm sensation running through his body as he said these words. It was true; he had so many things he wanted to live for, his friends, his family, his work on Enterprise. These things filled him with joy and life, even if he couldn't move his legs. Even if his condition wouldn't get better. Even if he had to use a wheelchair for the rest of his life, there were so many things to make his life worth living. Suddenly Trip couldn't understand why he had felt so sorry for himself after his relapse back aboard Enterprise. Resolutely, he looked in the counselor's eyes. "I'll never choose any sort of afterlife over this life. Not until you can prove to me that life is really better over there. But I believe even then I wouldn't want to go."

The counselor was at a loss for words when suddenly Dorsik came up beside them. "That's enough," he said. "Your counseling time is up."

"No, Dorsik," the counselor said, startled. "The patient is not ready yet. I need some more time."

"I told you your time is up."

Angrily, the counselor got to his feet. "You can't send him to the afterlife without his consent. That's unethical."

"I'm sorry, but we don't have time for this." Dorsik nodded to the guard he had brought in. "Thanks a lot for your efforts. The guard will take you outside now."

"I will tell Tasur how you are treating this patient." The counselor fumed. "That is outrageous. You can't do that, Dorsik."

Dorsik simply ignored the man. With the help of another physician, he dragged Trip through a connecting door into the next room and laid him down on an examination table.

"Could someone please untie my hands?" Trip complained. "I'm not exactly comfortable like this."

They ignored him and proceeded to strap him down with two additional restraints over his chest and hips. Trip cursed under his breath when Dorsik tightened the straps. The restraints cut into his flesh, and he couldn't move, couldn't even struggle.

The counselor had managed to squirm out of the guard's grip and came towards them. "What are you doing, Dorsik?" he asked appalled when he saw Dorsik fastening the restraints. "Why are you tying him down?"

The guard who had followed the counselor grabbed his arm. The counselor tried to free himself, but when he saw a weapon in the guard's hand his eyes grew wide and he swallowed anxiously. Without offering any further resistance, he let the guard lead him out of the room.

"Hey, don't I have the right to lie in that bed over there?" Trip exclaimed. "Won't you even allow me a little comfort?" If he managed to bother Dorsik enough to start an argument with him, he might be able to win some more time. A few minutes that might decide whether he lived or died. Jeren, where are you, Trip pleaded silently, I need you.

But Dorsik ignored Trip completely. Making sure that Trip saw what he was doing, he filled a dark fluid into a syringe. Trip swallowed. This had to be the T-18 Jeren had told them about. The poison that would stop his heartbeat within ten seconds. He supposed it was a quick and painless death. If you wanted to die. But Trip didn't want to. He wanted to live, and desperately so. Dorsik was standing right next to him. If only his legs would react to his brain's orders to lash out and kick the syringe out of the doctor's hands. But he couldn't move a single muscle, and his legs lay motionless on the table as if they weren't even a part of his body. Trip felt panic rise in his throat, and found himself having trouble breathing. Silently, he cried for Jeren. What was taking him so long? Trip waited for him to force open this door every second now, take care of Dorsik and his fellow doctor and get him out of here. He just couldn't believe it would end like this. After all he had gone through it just couldn't happen that they were going to kill him now.

Dorsik stepped closer.

Trip raised his eyebrows. Fighting his panic, he tried to speak in a mocking tone. "You're doin' the dirty work yourself?" he asked in a last attempt to win more time. And he found that if he talked, he was able to handle his panic a little better. He fought against the overwhelming need to cry or scream out loud. But he wouldn't allow Dorsik this triumph. "How many Renelans Tasur wanted to get rid of have you already killed? Do you do everythin' the governor orders you to?"

From the corner of his eye, Trip saw the other physician step closer. He tried to turn his head to the other side, but it was too late. Brutally, the man covered his mouth with a piece of band-aid. Dorsik smiled thinly when Trip threw his head helplessly from one side to the other.

"You have a big mouth, Commander," he stated. "I'm curious whether they're going to tolerate this in the afterlife."

Come with me and find out, Trip thought and glared at Dorsik with hate-filled eyes. It was the only feeling that was left inside him. For a moment the strong hatred for this man even blotted out his panic.

The other physician grabbed his hair and brutally forced his head to one side. Trip tried to fight him but his scalp felt as if it was going to come off as he struggled. The syringe in Dorsik's hand came nearer and nearer. A small drop of the dark fluid was running along the needle. Trip stared at the drop, hypnotized. Ten seconds, shot through his mind. Ten seconds until he would be dead. And he was all alone with Dorsik and his colleague. No friends were surrounding him like the last time when he had thought he was going to die. No, this time he was alone. Only two strangers who wanted him dead would watch him as he died. He felt tears burning in his eyes. Don't cry, Tucker, he thought desperately, don't cry. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of showing them how frightened he was.

Dorsik ran his finger over Trip's neck. Ten seconds. Trip strained his hearing. Where was Jeren? But all he heard was silence; Renelan seemed to hold its breath. He was completely alone with the people who were going to kill him.

The injection was extremely painful. Trip winced when Dorsik slowly released the poison into his bloodstream. He could feel every single drop running through his jugular vein and then through his whole body. Ten seconds. That was all he had left.


	23. Chapter 23

"Who are these people?" Malcolm asked as they walked through the entrance door to the left wing.

"Two of the consultants who kindly agreed to keep the doors open." Jeren let his eyes wander across the long hallway.

"You know where to go?" Malcolm asked.

"It's the second-to-last door on the right side of the hallway."

"Okay." Weapon in hand, Malcolm took the lead, staying close to the wall as they crept forward. Jeren walked closely behind him and Erianna who was holding Trip's weapon was last.

"There seems to be no one here, is that normal?" Nervously, Malcolm kept an eye on their surroundings.

"Yes, quite," Jeren explained. "Not many physicians are allowed to work in here. Usually, there are only two or three of them and their assistants on duty. I guess Dorsik keeps them busy in the laboratories. And I hope that's exactly where they're going to stay. Kenan will try to lock them in their laboratories using Sista's computer. I hope it'll work."

Malcolm raised his hand when a door at the end of the hallway opened. Quickly, they pressed themselves against the wall, but it was only a matter of time until the two men who entered the hallway would spot them. Malcolm raised his weapon. Because of the distance he feared that he wasn't going to be able to aim properly, but he had to give it a try. The first man held his companion's arm in a firm grip, pressing a weapon against his ribcage. Malcolm fired and the beam of light hit the guard's side, sending him to the floor with a dull thud. Surprised, the other man looked up, but didn't get the chance to react when Malcolm fired again. Only a split second later he joined the guard on the floor.

"A counselor," Jeren said hoarsely. "If Dorsik told the guard to take him out, then we don't have much time left."

Malcolm gritted his teeth. He was beside himself with worry about Trip as it was. All he wanted to do was charge into the Dying Room right away, but the door was electronically secured.

Jeren tried to open the door with the consultant's keycard, but it wouldn't budge. The three of them exchanged desperate looks. Malcolm licked his lips. They had no time to look for another way to get inside. Coming to a decision, he raised his phaser and fired at the panel. Jeren and Erianna barely had time to step back when the panel began to sparkle and sizzle. Malcolm pulled away the covering, revealing the wires. Normally, this would have been Trip's job, but in the meantime Malcolm had learned a lot from his friend. Within a minute he found the right wires and short-circuited them. Weapon at the ready, Malcolm barged inside as soon as the door slid open. The room was empty.

* * *

 

Trip lay on his back, waiting for the end to come. He could feel the poison paralyzing his body. It burnt like hell, but the band-aid over his mouth muffled every cry of pain. He felt the poison burning its way down through his body, numbing every part of it. His head fell to one side, he couldn't swallow his saliva any longer, his fingers clenched painfully under his back and then went limp, and eventually he couldn't feel his body anymore. Trip tried to catch his breath. Now that he couldn't open his mouth anymore, it was getting more difficult with every second to draw air into his lungs; his unshed tears had run back down the tear duct and were now clogging his nose. His heartbeat grew slower and unsteady, but it refused to stop. The ten seconds had to be over by now, but he was still alive.

Suddenly, with a cold chill, Trip realized what was going on. His breathing problems weren't only due to his clogged nose. T-18 might stop a Renelan's heart, but with a human it affected the lungs. Like T-14, the weaker substance. Trip heard his own labored breathing and wild panic began to rise in his throat. This wasn't to be a quick death. Like before, he was going to suffocate. But this time Jon wasn't going to bring an antidote, and Phlox wasn't here to hook him up to life support. This time no one would help him. As the realization hit him, Trip could no longer hold back the tears that welled from his eyes and ran down his cheeks.

Dorsik bent over him and checked his pulse. "His heart's still beating," he told his colleague. "I don't understand. How can that be possible?"

"He's not a Renelan," the other physician drew the right conclusion. "His metabolism works differently. It looks like the Tetraparcyllin affects his respiratory system a lot more than it does his heart. He's going to suffocate."

If you already know that then remove the band-aid so I can breathe, Trip pleaded silently, but Dorsik and his colleague only stood there, watching his agony with cold, scientific interest.

* * *

 

Jeren pointed at a connecting door. Low murmurs could be heard from the other side. "The laboratory."

Malcolm nodded at Erianna to step up beside him. It looked like the door wasn't secured. Malcolm took a run, jumped and slammed the door open with the full impact of his shoulder. He fell to the floor and executed a perfect drop and roll. Getting back to his feet in one smooth movement, he needed only a second to know what was going on. He saw Trip strapped down on the examination table, Dorsik and another man standing next to him, their faces taking on an expression of surprise as the intruders burst into the room. What caught Malcolm's attention, however, was the empty syringe in Dorsik's hand. They had come too late. Dorsik had already injected Trip with the poison. Malcolm supposed that his best friend was already dead, killed by these two men. Filled with hatred, anger and desperation, Malcolm aimed his weapon at Dorsik and pulled the trigger. The same moment another phaser beam whizzed past his ear and hit the other man. The two men barely had time to look surprised when they already dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Jeren was at Trip's side in one single stride. "He's alive," he shouted.

Phaser still in hand and his attention still focused on the door, Malcolm stepped up beside him. When he saw Trip, however, the hope that Jeren's words had raised within him vanished. The labored breathing and the panic in Trip's eyes weren't a good sign. He had seen Trip like that before and knew only too well what it meant.

Hastily, Jeren removed the band-aid from Trip's mouth. At once, Trip gasped for air, his mouth wide open to draw in as much oxygen as possible. Jeren looked at him, frowning.

The labored panting frightened Erianna. "What's happening to him?" she asked. "Did they administer the T-18 ...?"

"Yes," Jeren nodded curtly.

"But... but, shouldn't he ...?"

"... be dead by now? Yes, he should." Jeren grabbed the scanner that had fallen to the floor and checked the readings. "I should have thought of that. Trip's not from Renelan. It looks like his heart will be able to fight the poison for a while longer, but his respiratory system is affected."

Malcolm closed his eyes for a split second to get rid of the burning sensation. It was true, then. Trip was suffocating. He could feel his hands growing cold. "Do something, Jeren," he whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling slightly. "There must be something you can do, what are you waiting for!"

Jeren took the hypospray out of his pocket and studied it doubtfully. "I extracted the cure from Trip's blood, but it's not exactly a cure to T-18. I don't know what it will do to him. It might even worsen his condition."

"He'll be dead if you don't do it." Malcolm was on the verge of panic. "What can be worse than that?"

Jeren nodded and pressed the hypo against Trip's neck. With a small hiss the content was released into Trip's bloodstream. Malcolm prepared himself to give Trip mouth-to-mouth, but still Trip drew in one labored breath after the other.

Erianna watched him anxiously. "Will it help him?"

Jeren glanced at Malcolm and tried to look confident. "I hope so," he said quietly, so that only Malcolm and Erianna could hear him. "But the T-18 has already infiltrated his whole body. It seems that he is already completely paralyzed." Jeren saw that Trip's eyes were wide with fear, and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Try to calm down, Trip, it's over. Dorsik can't harm you anymore. You're going to feel better soon. Try to breathe slowly and evenly."

"Why can't he talk?" Malcolm asked worriedly, while he unfastened the straps that held Trip on the examination table.

Jeren watched Trip's breathing as it grew steadier with every minute. With an anxious glance he ran the scanner over his friend's chest and felt a burning sensation in his eyes. He blinked as pure relief washed over him. The cure was taking effect. "Dorsik is a fucking bastard," he said in a quiet, angry voice. "Normally, the patients are given a sedative and then the T-18 is injected right into the heart to grant a quick effect. I guess Dorsik just wanted to get some extra revenge on Trip, so he injected it into his jugular vein. I think the poison paralyzed his vocal cords and his muscles only seconds after it entered his bloodstream." He wiped the sweat off Trip's forehead. "Don't worry, Trip. I'm afraid the next few hours aren't going to be easy, but you're going to be alright. We're going to get you away from this place." Carefully, he shoved his arms under Trip's motionless body and picked him up. "Could you give me a hand, Malcolm?"

Malcolm rested Trip's head on Jeren's shoulder. "What about his hands?"

"There'll be enough time to take care of that when we're back in the flitter. It's a miracle that no one's noticed us as it is. You'd better check if the corridor is clear."

Malcolm and Erianna glanced out the door and found the hallway empty. Carefully and at the same time as quickly as possible they made their way to the exit. Suddenly, Erianna stopped in her tracks.

"What's the matter?" Malcolm whispered, but the same moment he saw what was wrong. The big double-doors were closed, the consultants and even their chairs had disappeared.

Malcolm had less than two seconds to adapt to the new tactical situation when a door flew open and Harek and Rassik jumped out of the next room, weapons raised. They began firing immediately. Malcolm pushed Erianna out of harm's way and took cover behind a doorframe. He supposed Jeren had taken cover to protect Trip from the weapon's fire, but right now, he couldn't check on them. His combat instincts kicked in as the first bullets whizzed past his ears. Malcolm remembered that Rassik was Tasur's best shot. He had to be careful. When the shooting stopped for a moment, Malcolm risked a short glance. At once, a weapon was fired and he heard the sound of a bullet passing closely by his left ear. Malcolm fired as well, but his opponent had already scrambled for cover again. Erianna threw him a desperate look. They needed to get out of here. Malcolm nodded, his mind racing as he tried to think of a way out.

Suddenly there was a faint whoosh as the double-doors slid open. Surprised, Harek turned around and lost his cover by doing so. Lousy tactics, Malcolm thought as he left his hiding place, aimed and hit Harek directly in the back. Never allow yourself to get so distracted as to leave your cover. But by leaving the hiding place he had lost his own cover, and could only hope Erianna wouldn't hesitate to keep Rassik at bay. Had it been Harek, he wouldn't have been so certain of this fact.

Rassik had left his cover to shoot Malcolm, but only a split second later Erianna fired her phaser. Unfortunately, she missed Rassik, but the man started momentarily, giving Malcolm the chance fire a well aimed shot. His phaser beam hit Rassik the moment the guard fired his own weapon. The bullet hit the ceiling as Rassik dropped to the floor, stunned.

Relieved, they took a brief look around. Apparently, there were no more guards around. Behind them, they heard loud banging on several doors and surprised voices asking why they were locked and what was going on.

All of a sudden, Kenan showed up in the doorway. "Come on, guys," he called, glancing at Trip as Jeren passed him by. "Did you get there still in time?"

"No." Jeren shook his head. "But I injected him with the cure."

"You did what?" Running alongside Jeren, Kenan shot him a surprised look. "Well, never mind now, you've got to leave immediately. You can't go back to your place. Do you have somewhere to go into hiding?"

"We'll stay with some friends for the time being. Thanks for distracting the guards. How did you manage to open the door without a key card?"

"Oh, Sista's computer is full of interesting functions. Can I come with you?"

"No, Kenan, you need to stay here. I can't come back here any time soon. Dorsik recognized me and I guess so did the counselor. My job at the Health Center is history. But no one knows that you were involved as well. Inform security as soon as we're gone. Tell them what happened and that I stunned you or knocked you unconscious or whatever. And don't forget to release the scientists."

"But I want to ..."

"You'll help us a lot more if you stay here and keep your eyes and ears open. I'll find a way to contact you."

Kenan opened the entrance door. "Okay, whatever you say. I'll take care of everything here. Good luck." He nodded to Trip. "Especially for him."

"Thanks, Kenan. And ... I apologize."

Kenan grinned. "It's okay. Maybe I should have told you earlier what I think about the goings-on around here. We can talk when all of this is over."

On the way out, Erianna passed by her brother and opened the flitter's hatch. Pushing a button, she folded up the seats in the rear so that they were out of the way. Then she sat down at the helm and boosted the engines.

"Sit down on the floor, Malcolm," Jeren said and helped the lieutenant to take Trip in his arms. With a start, Malcolm realized that Trip's eyes still were open. Despite his condition, the commander was fully aware of what was going on. His breathing was still labored, but he wasn't panting as badly as before.

"Will the cure take effect?" Malcolm asked anxiously.

Jeren closed the hatch and nodded to Erianna that they were ready to take off. Then he sat down across from Malcolm and began to untie Trip's hands. "It is already working," he said calmly.

"Last time it took hours for the cure to show only the slightest effect," Malcolm pointed out.

"But it's not the same cure anymore. It's been fighting the T-14 for quite a long time, and should have adapted to Trip's metabolism in the meantime. I hope it has adapted enough to finish off the T-18."

"But you can't be sure?"

"Not absolutely sure, I'm afraid." Jeren massaged Trip's wrists to restart the blood circulation. "Of course I don't have any experience with T-18 or the cure. I don't know what the poison has done to Trip's body and I don't know exactly how the cure works. But it looks like it is strong enough. Trip would be dead by now if it wasn't working. He's breathing a lot easier than before and his heartbeat is steadying. He will be alright, just have a little faith."

* * *

 

Trip would have loved to tell them that the cure was indeed starting to take effect. Tell them that Jeren was right and that breathing had become less difficult for him. But he still couldn't make a sound. His throat was burning like fire and the muscles in his neck were hurting. His head was the only part of his body that he had been able to feel the whole time, while the rest of his body hadn't seemed to belong to him anymore. It had been a strange feeling, but now it was slowly starting to wear off. He was able to feel his arms and legs again. He could clearly feel Jeren massaging his wrists and the prickling pain that seemed to crawl through his nerves as the blood circulation got better.

Malcolm held him as closely as if he was never going to let go again. Trip knew that his friend felt guilty because he hadn't been able to stop Dorsik's men from kidnapping him. It was the second time that he had almost been killed by this damned poison. But he wasn't dead. Trip felt a vague relief replace the agony and fear he had suffered. He still couldn't move, couldn't talk, but he was alive. His life wasn't in danger any longer, and he trusted Jeren. He was sure that his new friend would find a way to neutralize the poison Dorsik had injected into his system. Trip had no strength left to worry what was going to happen to him, or to feel anxious. At the moment he was simply glad that he had escaped Dorsik and his team of mad scientists. Glad he could lay back and allow his friends to take over.

As he relaxed a little, Trip felt that the arms holding him were extremely tense. Malcolm just couldn't let go right now. Trip sensed his friend's worry even though Malcolm was trying not to let it show, and wished he were able to reassure him, or show him somehow that he was feeling better already. Or, at least, tell him that he didn't blame him for anything of what had happened.

"What's going to happen next?" the lieutenant asked.

"Tasur is going to be furious," Jeren said with a bitter smile. "And of course he's going to search for us. But he's not going to find us, at least not any time soon. Still, as soon as Trip feels better we'll have to think of something." He checked Trip's heartbeat and breathing and his features softened. "You'll be okay," he told him gently. He turned Trip's head that lay in the crook of Malcom's arm and smiled at him. "You just have to be patient."

Trip closed his eyes, feeling every nerve in his body starting to itch. He guessed the fact that the feeling was returning to his body was a good sign, but he still hoped the itching and other side effects wouldn't get worse. Well, all he could do was wait and see. In the meantime, he had learned to be patient about his condition.


	24. Chapter 24

Night was already falling when Erianna landed the flitter. The minute she shut down the engines, Arissa came running out of the door.

Opening the hatch, she exclaimed: "It's about time. We've been so worried about you. Did you get him out?"

"We did," Jeren told her.

Arissa went pale when she saw Trip lying in Malcolm's arms. "What's happened to him?"

"Dorsik tried to kill him. We found him just in time."

Malcolm grimaced. "'Just in time' might be somewhat exaggerated. Dorsik had already injected him with the poison when we came in."

"Poison?" Arissa swallowed anxiously. "What poison?"

"T-18." Jeren explained. "The poison they're using to put the patients in the left wing to sleep. Trip can't move at the moment, but the cure I've synthesized using his blood is already starting to work."

Jeren tried to pick Trip up. "You can let go of him now, Malcolm," he said gently. "We were still in time, Trip will survive. All he needs right now is rest. Come on, let go."

Reluctantly, Malcolm loosened his grip and let Jeren take Trip. Yes, Trip would survive. But in what condition? Jeren had told them about the cure taking effect but he had admitted that he didn't know much about it. Would Trip be able to move again? Or would his secret fears come true, the T-18 leaving him with a completely paralyzed body for the rest of his life? Malcolm swallowed when he looked over to Trip who lay limply in Jeren's arms, his arms and legs dangling lifelessly. This damn planet hadn't brought them anything but trouble. First they had almost been killed out in that bloody desert, and now this. Malcolm took a deep breath, trying to control his anger as well as his fear. He couldn't help Trip by being upset.

Yanis, Arissa's husband, and his mother Malika were waiting for them inside. Malika, a gray-haired woman with grave features, smiled when she saw Jeren and Erianna, but her face grew worried when she looked at Trip. She laid a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be safe here," she said in a warm tone of voice. "Don't worry." She turned to Jeren. "We've prepared two rooms in the basement for you. Please come. It's not what I'd call cozy down there, but no one will find you there." She limped over to the wall where she opened a hidden door, revealing a staircase leading to the basement.

"Please go on," she said. "I'm not that fast. It's the two rooms at the end of the hallway."

Jeren nodded and went down the stairs, careful not to jostle Trip. Erianna opened the door to one of the rooms and Jeren laid Trip down on the bed. "Try to rest," he told him and turned to his sister and Malcolm. "Can you take care of him? I'll tell Yanis and Arissa what happened." He laid his arms around the shoulders of Malika and Arissa, who both stood at the door with worried expressions on their faces. "He'll be alright. But he needs some rest."

"Would be for the best," Malika agreed. "What about you? I can imagine you're hungry after all the excitement."

Malcolm shook his head, noticing from the corners of his eyes how Erianna did the same. They weren't going to leave Trip now.

Malika smiled understandingly. "I'll have something brought down to you. You have to eat to regain your strength."

* * *

 

While Erianna disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes, Malcolm set about the business of undressing Trip. While he pulled Trip's arms out of the t-shirt and peeled the jeans off his legs, he had to fight down the burning sensation in his eyes. He had done these things for Trip before, aboard Enterprise, while the engineer had been recovering from his first ordeal with the alien poison. But it was different this time. Trip had been able to talk then, sometimes even joking about his condition, and had been happy about every muscle he could move again. But now, without being able to swallow, Trip couldn't even drink a sip of water. How long would it take until he would be able to move again? Always assuming, of course, that Trip would recover at all. Secretly, Malcolm was afraid that Jeren might be wrong, despite the confidence the doctor had shown in their presence. What if Trip's condition wouldn't improve?

Malcolm could feel his friend's gaze resting on him. There was an inquiring expression in Trip's eyes when Malcolm carefully lifted his upper body to remove the t-shirt. He followed his movements with his eyes as far as his motionless head would allow it. Malcolm bit his lips. He could hardly bear this silent suffering. He should talk to Trip, try to ease his fears, but he couldn't say a word. And what was he going to say, anyway? Sorry I let you down? Sorry that you have to suffer because of my carelessness? He knew Trip was trying to meet his eyes but he couldn't look at his friend's face. He knew for sure he would only find reproachful accusation in these blue eyes. The question why he had failed him, why, as the security chief of Enterprise, Malcolm hadn't been able to protect his superior officer. Why he hadn't been able to stop Dorsik from injecting Trip with the poison that had once again taken away his ability to move. Malcolm knew he would lose his hard fought for composure if he met Trip's eyes right now.

Erianna stepped up behind him just as he covered Trip with a sheet. She sat down beside the bed, still watching Malcolm who stared down at the white sheets with a miserable expression on his face.

"He'll be okay, Malcolm," she tried to comfort him. "I'm sure he will."

Sadly, Malcolm looked up. "It's the second time I'm sitting at his bedside, waiting for him to recover from an ordeal I could have prevented. If I had done my job right, that is." He smiled bitterly.

"It's not your fault. You wouldn't have been able to prevent it. But it was your intervention that saved him." Erianna looked at the engineer. "You feel the same way about it, don't you?" she asked him.

Trip winked at her, but Malcolm couldn't see it. He only shrugged. Erianna's words didn't make him feel any better.

"You're afraid the cure isn't going to help him, aren't you?"

Malcolm winced at these words. He didn't want Erianna to voice his fears. Trip couldn't talk, but he was able to hear every single word, and burdening him with additional fears was the last thing Malcolm intended to do.

"Jeren said it's already started to work," Erianna said.

"Yes, he did," Malcolm admitted reluctantly. He would love to believe it. Suddenly he couldn't keep his feelings inside anymore. "That bloody poison. This is the second time he's been injected with that substance and the cure in only a short time. How long do you think his body can withstand this strain?"

"Trip is strong. He will make it."

"Hm." Malcolm's thoughts went back to the time when he and the captain had been sitting at Trip's bed, not knowing whether the cure would take any effect at all. Whether Trip would pull through or die. At least he knew for sure that Trip would survive this time. But Malcolm remembered Trip's fear when his friend had thought he was going to be handicapped for the rest of his life. He didn't dare to think about the consequences the latest large dose of poison might have for Trip. What if he stayed paralyzed, maybe even without the ability to speak or to swallow some food? Malcolm sighed deeply. How could he ever look Trip in the eyes again? How could he face Captain Archer if he brought Trip back to Enterprise in this condition? It had been his job to watch over Trip, and in this Malcolm Reed had failed badly. He had neglected his duties and had enjoyed the time with Farina while Trip had been struggling for his life. Farina! All of a sudden, Malcolm felt hot anger when he thought of the young woman.

"Do you think Farina intended to lure me away from Trip?" he asked Erianna.

She considered. "I don't think so. Perhaps Tasur used her for his plans, but she would never willingly take part in an attempted murder."

"But she seemed pretty sure Trip was going to go to that afterlife of yours very soon. She made it sound like a fact, and not only a possibility."

Erianna bit her lip. "A few years ago I had a very interesting talk with Farina. I don't think she knows about her father's doings. Her mother died when she was born, and Tasur raised her on his own. She means the world to him. All the same, he has influenced her a lot. Farina's faith in the afterlife is extremely strong for a young Renelan like her. She believes in earnest that all ill Renelans should go to the afterlife because they'll have a much better life over there."

Malcolm nodded. "She said this to me, too."

"Did you enjoy the walk?" Erianna smiled.

"Hm, yeah, I did." Sheepishly, Malcolm smiled back. He was glad Erianna had resolved his doubts about Farina. But despite of this their walk had been a mistake, an unnecessary risk he should not have taken.

"I shouldn't have gone with her." Malcolm sighed. "It was my job to stay with you, look out for any potential danger."

"I'm glad you weren't there when it happened," Erianna said softly, gently stroking over Trip's hand.

Abruptly, Malcolm looked up. "What do you mean? I could have stopped them if I'd been there."

"No, Malcolm, I don't think so." Erianna's features were sad. "They were well prepared for a hand to hand combat. And they caught us in a completely unguarded moment. None of us had expected them to come so soon. I still have trouble believing they really intended to kill Trip. I don't like Tasur, but I never expected him to be so cold-blooded." Erianna rubbed her face and looked at Trip. "Jeren thought that Tasur and Dorsik were going to try and hide you somewhere. We never thought that they might try and kill you. We weren't prepared for that possibility." Tears began to trickle down Erianna's cheeks. "Please don't think we Renelans are a cruel race. Not all of us are like Dorsik and Rassik."

"We'd never think anything like that." Hearing how Erianna blamed herself shocked Malcolm. "It was not your fault. Without your help Trip would be dead by now. You did great." Malcolm smiled. "Considering that you've never seen a phaser until a few days ago, you did a very good job."

"You think so?" Erianna tried a smile and wiped away the tears. "Perhaps I should have carried one of your phasers with me when they came to get Trip. Rassik wouldn't have gotten the chance to hit me and who knows, maybe Harek would have listened to me if I'd had more time to talk to him."

Malcolm nodded sympathetically. "Harek used to be your friend, didn't he?"

"That was before he joined Tasur's guard. I thought that maybe I could convince him to join the resistance movement, but later I was glad I hadn't told him anything about it. I don't know, maybe he would even betray me to Tasur. Harek has changed a lot."

"Back at Tasur's place, he was the only one who treated us like normal people. The other staff seemed to feel uncomfortable with Trip's handicap."

"But he followed the order to kidnap Trip without any questions. And he had this brutal guy Rassik with him who would have shot you from behind before you'd have had a chance to do anything about it. I'm really glad you weren't there, Malcolm."

"So am I," a low and raspy voice came from the head of the bed and Malcolm jumped to his feet, startled. Erianna stayed where she was, but smiled with relief when she felt the faint grip of Trip's fingers in her hand.

* * *

 

"Y'know that I don't blame you, don't you?" Trip asked. After a few hours of sleep, he was currently seated against the head of the bed, allowing Malcolm to feed him. Swallowing still hurt his throat a little, but he was too hungry to wait any longer. He was also able to move again, but still couldn't get a hold of anything, as it was difficult to coordinate his movements. His voice was only a hoarse whisper but at least his vocal cords had decided to cooperate again. And they needed to talk about this. "I'm waitin'," he croaked when Malcolm remained silent.

"Hm," Malcolm uttered vaguely and fed Trip another forkful of food.

Trip tried to swallow quickly so he would be able to answer. "Dammit, Malcolm, I can see you've got another guilt-trip comin'. You won't even look at me. Stop it."

"Stop what, Commander?" Malcolm looked down at the plate.

Trip sighed. "Look, Malcolm, every single word hurts my throat. I haven't got the strength to do a lot of talkin'. So please do me a favor and tell me you know it's not your fault. And look me in the eyes while you say so."

Malcolm looked up. Trip's eyes were full of concern. He couldn't see any trace of accusation in them. He swallowed.

"I'm still waitin'."

"I know you don't blame me," Malcolm finally managed. "But..."

"No buts, Malcolm, please. What happened to me wasn't your fault. Not ever." With his chin Trip pointed to the plate. "C'mon, let's get finished with this."

Feeding Trip another bit of food, the old sparkle suddenly returned into Malcolm's eyes and Trip knew that his friend had noticed the irony of the situation, just as he had.

"Don't worry, Commander," Malcolm said, suppressing a smile. "Next time it's your turn again to be at the other end of the fork."

"You betcha, Lieutenant." Trip smiled. He liked Malcolm a lot better this way.

A few minutes later, Jeren came to test Trip's reflexes. Erianna, who stood at the door with Yanis and Arissa, frowned when she saw what her brother was doing. "You don't need to do that now, Jeren. Just let Trip finish his meal in peace."

"I do need to do this now. We all want to hear the diagnosis, don't we?" Jeren smiled at Trip. "You're recovering very quickly. Do you still have trouble breathing?"

Trip shook his head. "My breathin' has been improvin' for quite a while. And I can feel how the rest of my body's gettin' better as well."

"You're damn lucky you're not a Renelan, and that you've had the cure in your system for several weeks already. Looks like it immunized your body enough so that it reacted to the new antidote at once."

"If he hadn't had the antidote in his body, Tasur would have never considered him a threat," Erianna said softly. "No one would have ever thought of killing Trip."

"That's true," Jeren admitted and frowned. "Trip, I suppose we owe you an apology that we were so careless. We should have brought you away from our place at once. But then, none of us knew that Dorsik would overreact in such a way."

"It's okay, Jeren," Trip said hoarsely. "I'm still alive."

"Is it true you can synthesize an antidote for CDS?" Yanis asked from his place at the door, breaking into their thoughts.

"Yes," Jeren admitted and his features brightened up. "The results are very promising. I only have to..." He stopped, stared at the floor for a moment and jumped to his feet with a startled exclamation.

Surprised, Erianna looked up at him. "Jeren! What's the matter? Is something wrong?"

"My disc. I forgot to get it out of the computer. It's still in the Health Center. I have to go and get it."

"You can't go there. Not now."

"But I have to. I need this disc. All my results are saved on it, the tests I took with Trip and Malcolm's blood and all my data about T-14 and the cure. Without it, I don't have any evidence that CDS is a manufactured disease. Our documentation would be useless. And I will not be able to help our people without it."

Malcolm put away the empty plate and got up. "I'm going with you."

"Thanks Malcolm, but it's better for me to go alone. I'm sure they didn't have the time to block my keycard yet. I should be able to get into the building without any problems. At night there's no one guarding the entrance, not even a security detail, since unauthorized people wouldn't have a chance to get in, anyway. Believe me, Malcolm, there is no risk to it, Tasur is not going to be looking for me there. He has to concentrate on Trip. I guess that right now he's ordering his men to turn our house upside down."

"You think so?" Erianna looked at him, alarmed. "What about our equipment in the basement? If they find the computer..."

"It's only a computer, Erianna. It holds no interest for them."

"You don't understand, Jeren. You never saw what Trip and Malcolm did to improve it. You won't find a sophisticated computer like that anywhere on Renelan. At least not in a private household. It's illegal to have such technology, and our whole documentation is saved on the hard disc, too. If Tasur gets hold of it, he'll know about my activities in the resistance movement. And what's even worse, all the names and addresses of our members are saved there as well. We can't risk it, Jeren, we'll endanger all of them. Plus, I won't be able to send the documentation to the media satellite without my computer. I've got to get it out of there."

"You can't go to our house now. That's the first place where they'll search for Trip."

"Now? In the middle of the night?"

Jeren let out a deep breath. "I have to admit that Tasur isn't one to make quick decisions at a time like this. He will shout at his staff, look for a scapegoat and waste a lot of time arguing with Dorsik while he waits for his consultants to come up with a plan. But even Tasur will think of searching our house for evidence. It's too dangerous."

"Maybe I can take Malcolm up on his offer." Erianna glanced over to Malcolm who nodded curtly and turned to her brother again. "Come on, Jeren. You've seen me handle those phaser weapons. I can do it. Please! Half my life's work is saved on that computer. I need to get it."

"Okay," Jeren finally gave in, still somewhat reluctant. "But I'm coming with you."

Malcolm shook his head. "We'll be alright, Jeren. I wouldn't want to show up there with a lot of people in tow. Get your disc, I'll take care of Erianna."

Thoughtfully, Jeren regarded him for a moment. "Agreed," he nodded then. "We'll meet here again in a few hours. But don't take any unnecessary risks." He turned to Yanis. "You look after Trip?"

"Of course, Jeren. You can count on us."

* * *

 

Erianna kept the flitter as close to the ground as possible. "You need a permission for flying at night," she explained. "Let's hope they're not controlling this area tonight. Or we're going to have to come up with a very good explanation what we're doing out here."

"Where can we park the flitter? It wouldn't be wise to fly to your house straight away."

"In the park, maybe. I could land it behind a tree so it'll be out of sight. But we can't carry the computer that far."

"There's no need to do so. But we need to check our surroundings first. The park seems to be a good place to start from."

Malcolm looked out the window, trying to penetrate the darkness with his eyes. The flitter wasn't equipped with any lights and since the planet had no moon, nights on Renelan tended to leave the desert world in an almost complete darkness. The stars hanging in the sky hardly provided enough light for anyone to see their own hands. But Erianna piloted the flitter like she went out for secret flights every night. She landed the small vehicle behind a large tree.

"Good job." Malcolm opened the hatch. "Let's hope no one is going to see us."

The house was dark and silent. Erianna started to run towards it, but Malcolm held her back. Carefully, he checked the surroundings, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. After a moment he nodded. "Okay, looks like nobody's here. At least no one's broken through the front door."

"Oh, they wouldn't have to," Erianna told him. "The governor has got all the door codes of his province."

Malcolm stared at her, bewildered. "Are you saying Tasur and his men are allowed to march straight into every house, just like that?"

"It's allowed only in very few cases, and needs to be confirmed by the government. But I think Tasur wouldn't give a damn about the laws."

Malcolm took a deep breath. "Okay, let's give it a try."

Erianna typed in her keycode and opened the door. Malcolm entered first, his weapon ready in hand. He fully expected Tasur's men to be hiding somewhere in the deserted rooms, and was very well prepared to meet them. But the house remained completely silent. Malcolm strained his ears, but all he could hear was his own breathing. He gave Erianna a sign to come in. Without making a sound, they hastily made their way to the basement. Carefully, Erianna shut the door before switching on the lights so the lamps' glow wouldn't betray them.

Malcolm immediately started to take apart the computers individual components.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Erianna when he put down the monitor on the floor. "Shall I get the flitter?"

"I have a bad feeling loading all this stuff into the flitter right in front of your door. Could you land in your back yard?"

"Of course."

"So, it would be best to hide all the components behind the bushes. You lock the door again, get the flitter and we can get going again once we've stowed away the computer."

"Fine. I'll take the monitor with me and open the verandah doors for you."

"Okay." Malcolm was rolling up a cable. "I'm right behind you."

"Leave the tower to me. You know, me being stronger than you and all." Mischievously, Erianna grinned at him.

Watching her disappear through the door that led to the staircase, Malcolm sighed. He'd rather not be reminded at every opportunity that every single woman on this planet was stronger than him, a fact that admittedly didn't sit well with Enterprise's security chief.

Malcolm placed the keyboard on the printer and climbed up the stairs. As he went through the basement door, he suddenly knew that something had changed. He still couldn't hear a sound and it was still dark, but something was different. He could feel an air draft. Of course, Erianna had opened the verandah door, but that couldn't be where the draft was coming from. Another door had to be open. The front door! Malcolm turned around when suddenly the lights went on and he realized that a weapon was directly aimed at him.

"Alright, Lieutenant. Set that down very slowly and put up your hands."


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter contains graphic violence.
> 
> * * *

 Malcolm recognized the darkly dressed person at once. "Hello, Harek, looks like you've recovered."

"You have very interesting weapons, Lieutenant. I've never before heard of a gun that could stun a person. Rassik and I are looking forward to taking it apart."

"Well, you're going to have to get it first."

"I don't think that'll be a problem."

Harek's self-satisfied smile annoyed Malcolm. This man wouldn't get his weapon so easily. He tried to find out how many men Harek had with him. Surely he hadn't come alone.

Harek seemed to be thinking along similar lines. "Who is with you, Lieutenant? Jeren or Erianna? Or both? Where have you taken the commander? Is he hiding in the basement?"

"Just have a look."

"Of course I will. After you, Lieutenant. Lay your weapon down on this table with your left hand. And be careful."

Harek seemed to have sharpened his tactical mind during the last days. Having recognized Malcolm as right-handed, he wouldn't give him a chance to fire. The incident at the Health Center seemed to have taught him a lot as well; he wouldn't let Malcolm out of his sight for a single moment. The lieutenant assessed that his chances of firing his weapon before Harek could react were rather slim, since he wasn't as fast with his left hand and Harek still had his gun aimed at him. Obediently, Malcolm laid his weapon on the table.

"It's a pity, Lieutenant, that you are on the wrong side. You would be a great addition to our team."

"I'd never join any team that delivers a helpless man to his murderers."

"Did Jeren tell you those fairy tales, Lieutenant? We were ordered to take the commander to the Health Center so he could be treated and that's the truth."

"Really? And that's the reason why Tasur ordered you to break into this house in the middle of the night to search for him?"

For a moment Harek was silent. "I guess he has his reasons. Keep your hands where I can see them, Lieutenant. Let's go!" Opening the basement door, Harek pushed his weapon into Malcolm's back. The stairs were fairly steep. On the third step, Malcolm pretended to stumble. Acting as if his leg had given out under him, he turned around on his heel, his fists raised right in front of Harek's face to place a good punch. Harek managed to block the beat, but Malcolm had been counting on the fact that he would do exactly that. While Harek was still busy with his hands, Malcolm kicked against his shin, full force. Harek cried out and, pulling his leg up as a reflex, he slipped on the narrow step and lost his balance. Smiling friendly, Malcolm stepped aside so as not to hinder him when he fell down the stairs. Before Harek had a chance to get up, Malcolm was over him and sent him into oblivion with a hard uppercut.

Just as he shoved the heavy body aside, Erianna showed up. Seeing Harek lying on the floor, she smiled thinly. "Hey, Malcolm, stop playing with Harek, we have work to do."

Malcolm grinned. "Erianna! What kept you so long?"

"Two bad guys who thought they could get away with snooping around in my bedroom. I have to say I'm growing to like these weapons. You sure they only stun a person?"

"Otherwise Harek wouldn't be here anymore." Malcolm pointed at the crumpled body. "I'm sorry I had to use violence."

Erianna only shrugged. "It's his own fault and I don't feel very sorry for him. What are we going to do with them?"

"There's no use in taking them with us. I suggest we leave them in the garden."

"Okay, then let's take the computer outside. I'll get the flitter. Will you take care of the two men in my bedroom?"

"Sure. Be careful." Malcolm grabbed Harek by his wrists and dragged him upstairs, not bothering to be very careful. Harek would have some bruises afterwards, but Malcolm didn't care. He dragged Harek across the verandah and into the garden. Then he returned to the house to get his weapon from the table before he took care of the two men in Erianna's bedroom. Erianna had done a good job. With a grim smile, Malcolm dragged the men into the garden as well and piled them up upon Harek's motionless body.

Erianna stepped out of the flitter which she had landed beside the vegetable beds. "Nice heap," she commented appreciatively.

Within ten minutes they had packed the computer into the flitter. Erianna locked the door and threw a worried glance at her house, but there was nothing else she could do. She guessed Harek and his colleagues would have lost their interest in searching her house when they regained consciousness. Sadly, she looked around the garden that looked silent and peaceful in the soft light of the street lamps. The wicker chair slowly swung in the wind, creaking faintly as it did so. Erianna shuddered when she thought about this afternoon's events. Things had changed dramatically since she had put Trip down in that chair so many hours ago.

"Please wait a minute," she said over her shoulder to Malcolm and picked up something that lay on the ground beside the wicker chair.

Malcolm had already seated himself when Erianna came back. Curiously, he looked at what she held in her hands. It was Trip's shoes and socks. Shrugging, Erianna smiled lopsidedly and sat down at the helm. She started the engine and the flitter disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

 

Jeren had parked his flitter in a small backstreet behind the Health Center. Carefully, he sneaked around the building that seemed to be dark and deserted. He tried his keycard and sighed in relief when the entrance door opened with a faint click. Shielding the light of his torch with his hand, he headed for his laboratory. He started when he heard a soft noise, and strained his ears to listen into the darkness. Had someone closed a door? Jeren wasn't sure. His heart still pounding, he decided to go on. Perhaps it had been just his imagination. Still upset by the day's events, he wondered if perhaps his nerves were so wound up that they played tricks on him.

He opened the door of his laboratory with his keycard, silently thanking security for their carelessness. The moment they had found out about him being involved in Trip's rescue they should have blocked his keycard. Malcolm had been right, after all. Renelan's security protocols were lousy.

The small smile on his lips vanished when he heard a low humming he recognized at once. His computer was on. Although the monitor was dark he could hear the hard drive working. Jeren closed the door and switched the lights on, prepared to find himself face to face with an intruder. The room, however, was empty. But someone had booted his computer. Jeren switched on the monitor, not surprised when he saw the back up directory of his tests appear on the screen. But then his hands grew ice cold when he realized that his disc was gone. He bowed down to check the slot, but it was empty.

"Damnit," he cursed. He had come too late.

"There a problem, Jeren?"

Startled, Jeren whirled around, just to see Rassik leaning in the door frame, his weapon aimed straight at Jeren's chest. A small club which Jeren recognized as a zapstick was dangling from the guard's wrist. Behind Rassik stood Sista, the secretary from the reception who'd had Jeren's absolute trust in all the time they'd worked together.

"I'm sorry, Jeren," she said uncomfortably, looking down at the floor. "But you shouldn't be here."

The truth hit Jeren like a ton of bricks. Sista had booted his computer to copy his test results to a disc and give them to Rassik. But why look on the computer when all his results, except the last one, were saved on his disc as well? He was sure Sista had taken his disc as well; perhaps she just had wanted to check whether the back-ups contained new material.

"Why are you doing that?" Jeren asked bitterly. "What do you get for spying on me?"

Sista didn't dare to raise her head. "They promised to spare me the CDS-test as long as I keep them informed about your actions."

"As long as you..." Jeren fell silent. Suddenly he understood. Since she had been the Health Center's secretary as long as he could think back, Sista had to be at least fifty years old. He had never realized she had reached an age when a Renelan would normally die of CDS. Working in a Health Center, she had certainly gained a lot of knowledge about what was going on behind the left wing's closed doors. Could he blame her for fearing for her life? Blame her for spying on him if that was the only possibility for her to save herself?

"Let's go," Rassik interrupted his thoughts. Jeren briefly considered his chances. Rassik didn't expect any resistance. If he pushed the guard aside and Sista stepped out of his way, he might be able to escape. Would Rassik shoot him? Jeren knew that Harek would never hurt or kill him, but he wasn't so sure about Rassik.

Rassik put the weapon into its holster and grabbed a piece of rope. "Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

Did Rassik really believe he was so stupid? Jeren would never voluntarily allow him to tie him up. Deliberately slumping his shoulders, he pretended to resign to his fate, but all of a sudden he slammed his elbow into Rassik's side, and dodged past him towards the door. But Sista wouldn't step aside, barring his way. Jeren hesitated for a brief second. He couldn't bring himself to hurt the woman. Then an excruciating pain exploded in his side. His legs gave way and he fell on his back, hard. His head slammed against the floor so hard his vision blurred for a moment, his arms and legs twitching uncontrollably as he lay helplessly on his back. It was the most painful experience Jeren had ever had in his life. Every single nerve seemed to be on fire and he felt white-hot pain washing through his body. As he opened his mouth to scream with sheer agony, he saw Rassik standing over him, dangling his zapstick and smiling evilly.

* * *

 

Painful spasms were still racking his body when Rassik turned him roughly onto his stomach, tied his hands behind his back and even tied his legs together. After he had called for a colleague, they both dragged Jeren out of the laboratory.

Sista was still staring at the floor, she hadn't moved at all. "Please forgive me, Jeren," she whispered. "Please forgive me."

Not bothering to be particularly careful, the two men dragged Jeren along the corridor while the young doctor still was trying to get over the pain. The stories he had heard about this zapstick were true. He never had seen a device as mean as this thing.

His legs dragged behind him as they descended the stairs, his shins and ankles hitting every single step. Tasur's guard never bothered to avoid unnecessary noise. They opened the hatch of the flitter with the governor's glinting sign on it, and rudely threw him in.

When they boosted the engines, a person sneaked out of the shadows next to the Health Center building and ran over to another flitter that was parked nearby. Lifting off, the small aircraft began to follow the governor's flitter whose bright sign could still be seen in the distance.

* * *

 

Back at their hiding place, Yanis helped Erianna and Malcolm to reinstall the computer in the basement. With increasing amazement he listened to Erianna and Arissa who showed him the documentation and explained the new programs which Trip had written so they would be able to feed the film into the media channels. He let out an impressed whistle. "You did this in no more than half a day? I can imagine you boys are rather good with computers."

Malcolm smiled at the compliment. Renelan's people were advanced in some areas like medicine, but where computer technology was concerned they were certainly behind the times.

Worried, Erianna looked up. "What's taking Jeren so long? He's been gone for more than two hours now."

"He needs half an hour just to get there," Arissa tried to calm her.

"But it can't take him an hour just to get this disc."

On the ground floor, the door bell rang. It was extremely loud so that Malika could hear it even in the basement and knew not to show up when there were strangers in the house.

"Well, he's here." Arissa was relieved, but Yanis shook his head. "Jeren knows our keycode, he wouldn't ring the door bell." He nodded to Erianna and Malcolm. "Stay here in the basement. Arissa, you come with me."

The bell chimed again. When he opened the door, Yanis saw a young man who was nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Is Erianna here?" he asked short winded.

"Who?" Yanis acted as if he hadn't understood.

"Erianna. And the two humans, Trip and Malcolm."

Yanis' mind began to race. So they had been discovered. In a thorough search of the house, Tasur's men would not only find Trip and Malcolm but his mother as well. He considered slamming the door into the man's face and blocking it to at least gain some time, when he heard Erianna behind him. "Yanis, wait!"

Erianna hurried to the door. "Kenan," she exclaimed. "What are you doing here? How did you find us?" She grabbed Kenan's arm and pulled him into the house.

"Believe me, it wasn't easy. I found out only by using my contacts to the resistance movement. It took me quite a while, though, to get your address. Too long, I'm afraid. Erianna, they've got Jeren. Sista, our secretary, betrayed him to them."

Shocked, Erianna stared at him for a moment, then her eyes filled with tears. Comfortingly, Arissa laid her arm around her shoulder. Malcolm showed up behind them. "Do you know where they've taken him?" he asked Kenan.

"I followed them to the governor's palace. I think they've locked him up in the old dungeons."

"Dungeons?" With an appalled expression on her face, Erianna looked up.

Yanis shook his head. "I've never heard of any dungeons in the Governor's palace."

"As far as I know, they're a relic of former times. But where else should they've taken him? I don't believe that Tasur would offer him a room in his house and he is certainly not going to involve anyone else in the matter."

"What are they going to do to him?" Erianna's voice was only a low whimper.

"Tasur wants to know where Trip is."

"But Jeren won't tell him."

Kenan smiled bitterly. "He will, Erianna, believe me, he will. Tasur is rather squeamish where these things are concerned, but he has some mean bastards among his guards who will gladly help him out."

"Rassik," Erianna whispered and shuddered.

"He's not the only one. Erianna, I hate to tell you this, but they're going to torture him. They're probably doing so right now. Jeren is going to tell them all they want to know. And to be honest, it would be best for him to tell them soon. You have to bring Trip and Malcolm away from here as soon as possible."

"First of all we have to rescue Jeren," Malcolm said grimly.

Kenan sighed. "Believe me, I would love to do that. But it's impossible. Tasur's palace is well guarded and I suppose he will take additional security measures, now that they've got Jeren. We would never even get the chance to get into the house."

Malcolm frowned, thinking. "Do you know where to find these dungeons?"

Kenan nodded. "I had a look at a floor plan of the house a few months ago. Once I'm inside, I think I'd be able to find them."

"Okay. I'll get us inside."

"How?"

"Just leave it to me. I'm sure I can find a way in. I just need a moment. Please wait for me." Malcolm nodded for Yanis to follow him into the basement and to Trip's bedroom. Checking the phasers he had stowed away in one of the drawers, he explained the situation to Trip. Then he turned to Yanis. "Can you bring him to a place where he's safe?"

"I wouldn't know a place where Tasur's men can't find him. We have some friends within the resistance but asking them to give shelter to an outworlder who's sought after by Tasur would be too much."

"Yes, you're right, we can't ask this of anyone. Bring him to our shuttlepod. No one knows where it is. He'll be safe there until we can find a better place." Malcolm took the scanner out of his arm pocket. "The way to the pod is in there."

"I'm afraid I don't know how to handle this device."

"Trip knows. And bring your family away from here, either. Don't take any risks."

Malcolm stepped up to the bed and laid a hand on Trip's shoulder. "See you back at the shuttle, Commander."

"Be careful, Malcolm. Get Jeren out of there but don't take any risks yourself. Understood?"

Malcolm nodded, said good-bye and ran back upstairs. He was surprised to see Erianna standing beside Kenan at the door, ready to leave. "You can't go with us," he told her.

"Why not?"

"Think about it, Erianna. If they're really torturing him, I don't think that's something you want to see. After all, he is your brother."

"That's the point, Malcolm." Erianna looked at him, determinedly. "I'd go crazy with worry if I just sat here without doing something to help him. It's not my first rescue mission today, as I'm sure you will remember. And what would you do with the second phaser? Kenan doesn't know how to handle it."

Erianna certainly had a point, and deep down Malcolm was glad to have her with him. He knew he could trust her. "Okay, let's get Jeren out of there."

* * *

 

Malika and Arissa helped Trip to dress.

"I'm sorry I'm causin' you that much trouble," Trip apologized.

"It's not your fault, Trip," Malika said, shaking her head. "It's Tasur who should feel guilty. He and the other governors with their politics of killing people. That kind of thing is poisoning our planet."

Trip tried to get on his t-shirt, but he had difficulties coordinating the movements of his arms. Smiling, Malika pushed his arms through the sleeves. "Don't give up, son," she said encouragingly. "You'll be okay."

"And what about you," Trip wanted to know. "Are you going to give up?" He had seen the expression of deep sadness on her face, and realized what a life she was leading down here in the basement. Loved by her family, but no longer having any social life. She had to hide when the door bell chimed, she could never go outside, was always confined to this house, to this basement, even. Trip couldn't imagine a life under such conditions.

Malika looked at him, smiling sadly. They both knew what the other was thinking, since they were both struggling to cope with an ordeal that threatened to overwhelm them at times. She turned to Arissa. "Look after your baby, dear, I'll help Trip."

Arissa nodded understandingly and shut the door behind her.

"Sometimes it's hard," Malika admitted. "To be honest, sometimes I've been toying with the thought of going to the Health Center to end this misery. But I don't believe in the afterlife. At least not in the one they're talking about all the time. I love my live and I love my family. But I'm a burden for Yanis and Arissa, although they never would admit it. They live in constant fear that someone'll come and find me."

"They're fine people," Trip said. "Not many people would hide a stranger in their house to protect him. I'm not even from Renelan."

"But there's hardly any difference between our species. We're happy to help you. After all, it was our governor who did this to you."

Malika slipped Trip's socks over his feet and then helped him into his shoes. Trip tried to catch her eyes. "And what are you plannin' to do? You're not gonna go to the Health Center, are you?"

"No, I'm not, although I'm still thinking about it, sometimes. But if I did so, I would be spurning my children's and Jeren's courage and dedication, who have risked their lives to save mine. The baby gave me something to live for. Only very few Renelans get the chance to see their own grandchildren grow up." Smiling, she helped Trip sit up, placing his feet on the floor and supporting his back. "You gave me another reason to go on."

"Me?" Trip exclaimed surprised. "What do you mean?"

"You are Renelan's hope, Trip. I wasn't able to understand all of these scientific things, Jeren told us about these poisons. But I understand one thing: that with your help things could be changed around here, and I want to live to see it."

Yanis entered the room. "All set?"

Malika nodded. "You can take him with you."

"Very well." Yanis gave his mother a friendly nod. "I'll fly Trip to his shuttle, then I'll come back to bring you to a safe place. Please stay with Arissa and the baby here in the basement and lock the door so that no one can get in even if they have the code for the front door. I'll be back as soon as possible." Sliding his arms under Trip's body, he picked him up. "You okay?"

Trip nodded and reached out for Malika's hand. "Thanks a lot."

Malika squeezed his hand, and her eyes were soft as she spoke. "Thank you, too, Trip. We won't forget about you."

* * *

 

Jeren let out a ragged sigh. He felt dizzy and he didn't know how much longer he would be able to endure the pain which was increasing with every minute. Rassik and his colleagues had untied his hands and had removed his shirt. Then they had tied his hands together in front of him and had fastened them to a hook that dangled at a chain from the ceiling. Leaving his legs bound together, they had hoisted him up until his toes barely touched the floor, and had left.

He had lost all sense of time. He didn't know how long he had been hanging here. Being pulled down by his own weight, his arms felt as if they were growing longer and longer. The ropes cut deeply into his wrists, and he could feel blood running down his arms.

He let out another groan of pain just as Rassik and his two colleagues came back. Rassik slapped him in the face. "Stop whining", he snarled at him. "If it had been my decision, I would have hung you up by your thumbs. You're lucky that my friends are such nice guys. Where are the two humans?"

"I don't know."

Rassik's fist exploded on Jeren's cheekbone, throwing the doctor's head to one side. "Don't fool with me, doctor. You're going to tell me what I want to know, sooner or later. Sooner would be better for your health. But later would be okay with me as well." Rassik took a whip out of his pocket and held it in front of Jeren's eyes. "Remember my zapstick? Good. This whip has about the same voltage, but it would cut you to pieces." Rassik moved the whip and the wires that were weaved into the string began to spark. Jeren swallowed. He couldn't tell them anything. He'd be betraying not only Trip, but Yanis and his family as well. And Erianna, who trusted him. He had to try and hold on as long as possible. Staring at the whip whizzing through the air in front of him, he could feel cold sweat soak his skin. He bit his lip to stop it from trembling. He had never seen himself as a hero. He didn't know how much pain he was able do endure, but the brief taste he had gotten in the laboratory had already been enough. How many hits with that electric whip would his brain tolerate until it would go mad? Until he would be beyond any hope for recovery, and Tasur would have a reason to officially send him to the left wing?

"Well, doctor? Are you going to tell me or not?" Rassik brought the whip down on the floor, leaving a long charred streak that crackled with flames and small electric discharges. Jeren felt his face growing pale and his mouth going dry. Rassik smirked sardonically.

"They are in my house," Jeren whispered, barely audibly.

With a cry of rage, Rassik pulled his fist back and hit the whipcord across Jeren's bare chest. Jeren's breathing stopped for a few seconds when the electric shock burnt its way through his body. His arms and legs began to twitch despite their stretched position as his nerves reacted to the shock, and the ropes cut into his wrists even deeper than before. The whipcord tore deeply through his skin, and instantly blood began to flow freely over his stomach. Trembling, Jeren tried to catch his breath. Nausea threatened to overwhelm him when he smelled his own seared flesh. The pain seemed to turn his whole body inside out. He bit his lip to prevent himself from screaming out loud but he couldn't stop the tears from falling from his eyes.

Rassik watched him with a satisfied grin. "Don't fool with me, doctor," he whispered in a cold tone of voice. "The commander isn't at your house. Harek found the lieutenant and Erianna there, but they were alone."

Found? What did he mean by this? Had Tasur captured them as well? He could hardly believe Harek would turn his ex-girlfriend over to the governor, but could he really be so sure about his old friend? Perhaps Erianna and Malcolm were somewhere in these dungeons as well. Maybe in the room right next to this, enduring the same painful treatment. Thinking of Erianna, Jeren swallowed anxiously. He was also worried about Malcolm, of course, but the lieutenant had been trained for situations like this. Erianna, however...

Rassik looked at him with a mad glint in his eyes. "So, where's Commander Tucker?" he interrupted Jeren's train of thoughts. "Are you going to tell me or do I have to ask your sister?"

Jeren only stared at him.

Rassik raised his arm. Jeren shut his eyes, preparing for the pain to come. But it wouldn't. Jeren tensed up when he heard the whip's crack, but it only hit the air. Seeing his fear, Rassik laughed. "This is your last chance to tell me what I want to know, doctor."

Jeren gritted his teeth, but it didn't help. The blow seemed to rip him in two. He began to scream when it cut into his skin like a red-hot knife, burning a deep cut from his shoulder to his stomach. Again his arms and legs reacted with painful spasms, bringing additional agony as his joints were bent in the wrong direction. His mouth filled with blood and somewhere beneath the blur of pain he noticed that he had bitten his tongue. Before he had a change to recover, Rassik stepped around him and smacked the whip across his back. The electric current seemed to go straight into his spine and set all his nerves on fire, turning his cramping muscles into instruments of torture. For a moment that seemed to go on forever his insides felt as if they were being roasted. Jeren gasped for breath, but he couldn't draw any air into his lungs. He couldn't even produce enough of a sound to let out a scream. Rassik raised the whip once again, but one of the guards stopped him.

"Give it a break, Rassik. We don't want him to snuff it, do we? Give him some time to think over the situation."

"Okay." Rassik smirked and gave Jeren a blow that sent him swinging back and forth at the hook. "Have a nice time, doctor. But don't forget, I'll be back."


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter contains graphic violence.
> 
> * * *

Yanis strapped Trip down in the flitter's seat and laid the scanner in his lap. "You manage?"

Trip nodded. His movements still were somewhat clumsy, but he was able to operate the scanner. Malcolm had managed to do so with his burnt hands, so he would manage as well.

The flitter lifted off the ground and made its way through the night.

"I wish I could stay with you." Yanis seemed to be feeling uncomfortable.

"You don't have to, Yanis. You have to look after your family. My stay at your place put all of you in danger."

Yanis smiled. "If we're able to publish this documentation it will be worth all risks. Don't worry about my family. I'll find a place for us to stay. But I have a bad feeling about leaving you alone in your shuttle."

"Well, in the meantime it's become somethin' like a home to me."

"But you're barely able to move."

"It's gettin' better. Besides, I won't have to move a lot. I'll just lie down and wait for Malcolm to come and tell me the coast is clear."

"I hope they're going to find Jeren."

"They managed to find me as well. I'm sure they'll be able to get him out of there."

"Hm." Yanis steered the flitter in the direction of the woods. "I'll just be glad when this is over."

Trip sighed. Yanis surely wasn't the only one. He looked at the scanner. "You have to turn right now."

"Okay." After leaving the city, the flitter accelerated. Soon the dark forest appeared in front of them. Trip guided Yanis to the clearing where they had brought the shuttle down. Yanis landed the flitter and shut down the engine. "You sure I can leave you here?" he asked worriedly.

"Of course I'm sure. I'll be safe here." Trip wrapped his arm around Yanis' neck, allowing him to carry him into the shuttle.

Yanis settled him on the rear bench. "I'll leave a bottle of water with you." Standing in the open hatch, the young man hesitated. "It just doesn't feel right to leave you behind without any help. We promised Jeren to take care of you."

"That's what you did, Yanis, and I'm grateful for that. Our shuttlepod is a safe place to hide and I won't endanger you and your family any longer. Go now."

Yanis nodded. Glancing at Trip for a last time, he left and closed the hatch behind him.

* * *

 

They had been able to sneak up to the big patio without anyone noticing, but as they hid behind some trees they realized there was no way to enter the palace. Tasur had put his guards on sentry duty and they counted eight men patrolling the stairs and the patio.

Kenan shook his head. "We won't stand a chance even with your weapons. I'm sure they're guarding the back door as well. Any ideas, Lieutenant?"

Malcolm studied the building. "Is there any way we can get into the park behind the house?"

"It's surrounded by a fairly high wall, but I guess it wouldn't be a problem. What are you getting at? The palace doesn't have an entrance on the park side. You can enter the house only through the back door on the verandah. And as I said, this entrance will be heavily guarded as well. And if you're thinking about getting in through an open window, forget about it. They're all secured."

"Just leave it to me." Malcolm had already left their hiding place. Kenan and Erianna looked at each other, shrugged and followed him. Carefully, they approached the park's back wall which was nearly three meters high. Malcolm gave Kenan a step-up to climb the wall and did the same for Erianna. Kenan and Erianna crouched down on the narrow ledge on top of the wall and reached down with their hands as far as they could. Jumping, Malcolm was able to grab their hands and was pulled up on top of the wall by Erianna and Kenan's joint efforts.

Looking down on the other side, Kenan frowned. "That's very deep."

Malcolm suppressed a smile. "I'll help you."

"And what about you?" Erianna asked.

Malcolm shook his head, still smiling, and knelt down on the wall. He grabbed Kenan's wrists and carefully lowered the man as far as possible before he let go. Kenan landed on his feet, immediately running for cover.

"Now it's your turn." Malcolm lowered Erianna to the ground, waited a moment and then jumped down himself. He rolled over his shoulder and was on his feet again in an instant. He noticed Erianna looking at him with wide eyes.

"Your softer bones must be more flexible than ours. No Renelan would try to jump down from such a height. "

Malcolm grinned. He had always known their "fragile" bones had to have at least one advantage. "Stay in cover," he whispered. "Over there, behind the trees might be a good place. I'll call you if the coast is clear."

"But how are you going to get into the house?"

"Oh, I found a little secret passage." Keeping his head down, Malcolm crossed the lawn, hoping no one would look out the windows right now. Although it was dark, anyone would notice the approaching figure.

The second window from the right on the ground floor, he recalled, and smiled when he discovered that it actually stood open. He climbed onto the window sill and slipped inside. When his feet touched the ground, a flash light lit up, shining directly into his face.

"Shut down the light, you're blinding me."

"Malcolm! It's you!" Farina embraced him fiercely. "I thought you'd never come. Wait, I'll switch on the light."

Malcolm heard her footsteps on the floor, blinking when the room was bathed in glaring brightness. Farina turned around and smiled at him. She looked delightful in her long flimsy nightgown. But Malcolm didn't have the time to admire her beauty. He hugged her, pulling her head to his chest so she would not see him reaching for his phase pistol with the other hand. "I'm sorry, Farina," he whispered into her brown hair.

"What for, Malcolm? You came. We're together." Farina's eyes widened suddenly, and a second later she slumped forward in his arms.

"For this." Malcolm stowed away the pistol and lay Farina down on her bed. Carefully, he covered her with the sheets and switched out the light. Then he opened the window, signaling with the torch to the trees ahead. A few seconds later Erianna and Kenan climbed inside.

"Whose room is that?" Erianna asked. "Is it really safe?" She stopped when she saw Farina lying on the bed. "Oh, I see. Is she sleeping?"

"More or less." Malcolm helped Kenan in. "I had to assist her a little."

Surprised, Kenan looked from Farina to Malcolm, but gave no comment. Carefully, he opened the door and peered outside. "That looks good. I know the way. Come on."

Cautiously, he led them through long hallways Malcolm couldn't remember seeing before. He and Erianna had their phasers at the ready, but the house was silent, and seemed to be guarded only on the outside. Inside, no one appeared to be on sentry duty.

They reached a huge tapestry that Malcolm actually could remember. Tasur had told them proudly how expensive it had been.

"Help me push this thing aside."

Surprised, Malcolm looked at Kenan, but did as he was told. Behind the tapestry there was a small door. When Kenan pushed against it, it swung open, revealing a long winded stairs down to the basement.

"Be careful. The steps could be slippery."

They felt their way down along the wall, walking slowly although they all would have liked to run.

"Any ideas where Jeren could be?"

"No, I'm sorry, but I can't remember the entire map. There are a lot of cells down there. Guess we simply have to check them all."

At the bottom of the stairs they found themselves standing in front of a bulky wooden door. To their astonishment it swung open without a sound. Malcolm who had awaited a treacherous creak exhaled in relief. "Seems like it's used more often than we'd thought," he uttered grimly, not knowing whether to be glad or worried at this fact. A long cold hallway with cells on both sides lay ahead, dimly lit by a single bulb that hung from the ceiling. Erianna shivered in the eerie light.

With his phaser drawn, Malcolm opened the door to the first cell. It was empty, as was the second one. Malcolm turned to the next door when a shrill sound was to be heard, followed by a sharp smack. Then an agonized scream cut through the air.

* * *

 

Jeren was sure he had been dangling from this chain for hours, perhaps for days. The rope around his wrists seemed to be cutting straight through his flesh and scraping his bones and his shoulders felt like they were already dislocated. He was dangling from this hook like a piece of meat. From time to time, electric shocks raced through his body, making him whimper with pain. The deep jagged cuts on his front and backside burnt like fire and blood ran over his chest and back. The shocks seemed to have overloaded his brain. He couldn't think anymore. His entire world was pain. Sharp, burning pain. It had to be ended. Now. He couldn't bear it any longer. Jeren groaned loudly.

At an instant, Rassik appeared in the door to the next room. "You called for me, doctor?" he smirked.

His two colleagues who had followed him examined Jeren briefly. "We've got to take him down," one of them said. "Otherwise he'll die."

"First he's going to tell us what we want to know." Rassik grabbed the blond hair, brutally forcing Jeren's head back. "Where's Commander Tucker?"

Suddenly Jeren felt rage rise inside him, so strong it blotted out even the pain. Furious and desperate, he spit directly into Rassik's face. Saliva mixed with blood ran down the guard's cheek.

"You'll pay for this," Rassik hissed. Full of hatred, he raised the whip and smacked it across Jeren's chest full force, the impact causing Jeren's body to swing back and forth. The sparkling rope cut deep into his flesh and for a moment electric charges danced across the wound. Jeren gave a shrill, agonized cry.

Rassik watched the tortured body that twitched like a fish on a fishhook. "Just to please you, doctor," he muttered contentedly, raising the whip once more.

His colleague took a hold of his arm. "Stop it, Rassik. You're killing him."

"That's exactly what I intend to do."

"But if you kill him he can't tell us where the humans are."

"We'll find them without his help. There are other possibilities." Rassik shook off the hand and raised the whip.

With a loud crash the wooden door gave way. The three men whirled around and a second later two of them had dropped limply to the floor. Quickly recovering from the surprise, Rassik swung the whip against his adversary, but it only left a sparkling streak on the floor when the other man ducked aside. Suddenly, Rassik found himself facing a man who was at least fifteen centimeters smaller than he and less strong, but compensated for these disadvantages with pure rage and combat skills. The whip was swiftly kicked out of Rassik's hand and then Malcolm slammed Tasur's best man across the room, sending him crashing into the wall. Rassik hardly got a chance to react. Effortlessly, Malcolm avoided the guard's few attempts to hit him. Enterprise's tactical officer put all his skills and experience to this fight. Only when Rassik lay slumped on the floor, Malcolm let go of him, turning around. Seeing Jeren dangling from the hook, his insides clenched painfully. Kenan was trying to lower the bloody body and Erianna who was crying and sobbing helplessly, tried to keep her brother steady without causing him any additional pain. They needed his help.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his ankle, trying to make him lose his balance. Malcolm stumbled, but managed to stay on his feet. Quickly, he pulled up his foot, grabbed the hand that was still holding his ankle and freed himself with a jerk. Then he smashed his knee against the other man's elbow full force, still holding on to the guard's wrist. A distinct snap was to be heard and this time it was Rassik who cried out loud. Malcolm had broken his arm. "Go to the afterlife, you bastard," the tactical officer growled and carelessly dropped the arm, never wasting another look on Rassik who was whimpering with pain. This man wasn't going to be a threat to them any longer.

Malcolm helped Erianna lower Jeren carefully to the floor, and began to untie the bloody ropes. "What did this bastard do to you?" He caught Jeren's twitching arms and held them in a gentle grip.

"It looks worse than it actually is." Kenan tried to speak calmly, but failed miserably. "It's this electric whip. The cuts are very deep and painful, but not life threatening if treated quickly and carefully. I wish I could say the same thing about the electric shocks, but I can only tell after I have examined him."

Jeren groaned. "I'm okay," he whispered barely audibly. "But I'm glad you're here. Rassik told me Harek had caught you."

"So he had," Malcolm answered grimly. "But apparently Rassik forgot to tell you that Harek didn't come out winner in our little confrontation."

The corners of Jeren's mouth twitched slightly while tears of pain were running down his face. "I'm glad to hear that. What about Rassik?"

"I broke his arm," Malcolm said. "He won't be using that whip again any time soon."

Jeren licked his lips. "You know what this means for him?"

"I don't give a damn about it," Erianna exclaimed. She still was sobbing and her clothes were already soaked with Jeren's blood

"I don't think Tasur would send his best man to the Health Center to be killed," Kenan said. "I suppose he'll order Dorsik to treat him and hide him afterwards. But I believe we've got other things to worry about. Like how we're going to get you out of here." He threw a questioning glance at Malcolm. "Any ideas? We can't go through Farina's room. I don't really care if we'll leave a trail of blood on the floor, but I have to stop the bleeding as soon as possible. And there's no way we can get him over the wall."

Malcolm stood up. "We can try the main staircase."

"But what about the guards?" Erianna objected.

"They're only looking in one direction and won't notice what's going on behind their backs. We can just shoot them from behind."

"From behind? But..."

"Erianna! We're only going to stun them. We don't have time for fair play. It's your brother we're trying to save."

"You're right." Erianna looked at Kenan. "Is he able to walk?"

Kenan shook his head. "I don't think so. I believe the electrical shocks have messed up his movement coordination. It'll take a few hours for the after-effects to wear off. I'll carry him."

"Good." Malcolm threw an appraising glance at Erianna. "You okay?"

Erianna tried to get a grip on herself. She sniffed once more, ran her hand over her eyes and bent down to her phaser that had fallen to the floor. "Yes, Malcolm," she said determinedly. "I'm okay."

"I'll take the lead."

Rassik cursed loudly and cried for help when they opened the door but none of them listened to him. Carefully, Kenan carried Jeren along the hallway. Erianna stayed closely beside them, trying to steady her brother's still twitching arms and legs. Jeren had laid his head on Kenan's shoulder, whimpering softly from time to time.

"Just a few more minutes, Jeren," Erianna tried to sooth him.

Malcolm opened the door behind the tapestry. He couldn't believe that the entire operation had stayed unnoticed. But the palace was still silent. Sneaking through the entrance hall, Malcolm noticed that it was already dawning. He hoped that the guards' alertness had diminished during the long night. Slowly so as not to make any noise, he opened the front door's lock. There was a hardly audible click when the big door opened. "Stay behind me," he told Erianna. Halfway down the stairs they could see all of the eight guards who had their backs turned to them as Malcolm had predicted. Without hesitation, they took aim and stunned one after another. Only the last one turned around, alarmed at the thuds as his colleagues dropped to the ground, but he never had the time to draw his own weapon when Erianna shot him in the chest.

"Best regards to Tasur," Malcolm muttered and turned around to help Kenan carry Jeren down the stairs. Erianna ran ahead to get the flitter. After she had landed the vehicle directly at the bottom of the stairs, Kenan and Malcolm carefully lifted Jeren inside.

Kenan took care of the bleeding wounds using the small med kit he had found under a seat. Jeren groaned at every touch.

"I'm sorry, there isn't any painkiller. Hold on just for a few more minutes." Kenan wrapped a bandage around Jeren's upper body and then tended to the deep cuts the rope had left in Jeren's wrists. There were even a few threads from the rope sticking in the wounds.

"Don't you have some of this marvelous healing liquid handy?" Malcolm asked.

Kenan shook his head. "It's a powder that has to be mixed with a special liquid. We can do that only in a laboratory. But I could try to get some of it from the Health Center."

"Only to be caught as well," Jeren moaned. "We'll have to do without it. The burning is already wearing off."

"And the spasms?"

"Getting better as well." Jeren's abruptly twitching arm belied his words, but Kenan held it in a gentle grip until the trembling subsided.

Malcolm bit his lip. "Have you told them anything about Yanis and his family?"

"No, they don't know anything about our hiding place." Jeren's voice was already growing stronger.

"Yanis has brought Trip to a safe place," Kenan told him. "Just to be sure. But we can take care of you at their place." Thoughtfully, he looked at Jeren. "Would you mind telling me what you were doing in the Health Center in the middle of the night?"

"I wanted to get the disc with my test results. I left it in the computer this afternoon. But I was too late, it was already gone."

Kenan stared at Jeren. "Oh no. You can be such a moron at times, Jeren. I told you I was going to take care of everything. It was me who took your disc. I've had it with me all the time."

"You took it?" Jeren's eyes widened. "But how did you know it was important?"

"Do you think I didn't notice how fussy you were about this disc? I thought it would be for the best if I took it with me."

"So Tasur didn't get it?"

"No, it's still in my pocket."

"That's great. Thank you, Kenan." Exhausted, Jeren closed his eyes.

* * *

 

Arissa and Yanis were shocked when they saw Jeren. Carefully, Kenan sat him down on a chair. He removed the bandages while Arissa fetched warm water to clean the wounds.

"By the way, what are you doing here?" Malcolm asked. "I thought we agreed that you would go into hiding somewhere."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Jeren mumbled indistinctly.

"Sorry Jeren," Kenan apologized, "but assuming we hadn't come to your rescue, how long do you think you could've withstood that whip?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Jeren coughed and grimaced in pain.

Using a soft cloth, Erianna carefully washed the blood off Jeren's upper body and arms while Arissa fetched some clean clothes.

"We couldn't leave," Yanis explained. "Some of our friends who are also in the resistance movement agreed to take Malika for a while. But we thought that if we went into hiding, it would be like admitting that we've committed some sort of crime. If they don't find Malika, there's nothing they can accuse us of. We thought we had to be here when you came back."

"I'm glad you stayed." Kenan applied some ointment to the cuts on Jeren's upper body and his wrists, then bandaged them again. Finally, he took care of his friend's battered face. "Sorry, but I can't do more under these circumstances. Guess it'll have to do for today. Lie down and try to get some rest. I'll come back later and then I'll bring some of the - how did Malcolm call it? - marvelous healing liquid with me."

Arissa came back, carrying a bundle of fabric. "Here, Jeren, these are from Yanis. I believe they could fit you. And here are some clean clothes for you, Erianna, you got blood all over your shirt. But you should go and clean yourself up first."

Kenan turned to Jeren. "I may have got something else for you. There are cameras all over the left wing that have recorded everything that's happened there and fed the video footage directly into a file in Dorsik's computer. Sista has managed to hack into those cameras and reprogrammed the computer so that copies of the footage were automatically saved on her terminal."

"That way she knew what they are doing there and what awaits old people like her," Jeren said softly.

"You think that's why she betrayed you?"

"Tasur promised her she wouldn't have to undergo the CDS-test as long as she spied for him."

"I suppose she had no idea what she was doing. In any case, I found an astounding video in her computer. A perfect documentation about what Dorsik did to Trip, and your escape is on there as well. Do you have any use for it?"

"Evidence that Dorsik kills patients against their will in the Health Center?" Arissa beamed. "You bet we can use that."

"I thought so. To be sure, I've just downloaded all of the files in one go. I'll bring you the disc this evening." He pulled a small case from his pocket. "And this is the disc you've gone to all that trouble about, Jeren."

"Thank you Kenan. I owe you one."

"I'm glad you don't distrust me any longer."

"How could I? You saved my neck more than once. And not only my neck. By the way, where have you brought Trip?"

"To our shuttlepod," Malcolm answered. "He'll be safe there for the time being."

Jeren nodded. "But very lonely. Since I haven't told them anything there is no reason why we can't get him back. Kenan, what's the matter?"

Alarmed, the young man looked at the faces around him before he turned to Jeren. "Do you remember that you asked Sista to find out about the shuttle's whereabouts? I'm sure she told Tasur the coordinates. I'm sure they're going to check it out at first shuttle is maybe the unsafest place where Trip could be right now."

"No!" Erianna who had just returned from the adjoining room gasped for air.

Yanis smacked his fist into his hand. "I knew it was wrong to leave him behind."

Malcolm had already jumped to his feet. "We've got to get him back immediately."

Erianna nodded. "I'll get the flitter."

"I'll accompany you," Kenan offered.

"No." Jeren shook his head. "You're on duty today. You mustn't raise any suspicion by not showing up. I guess they'll be observing you rather thoroughly since you were my closest assistant." Awkwardly he stood up. "I'll go."

"No, Jeren," Erianna objected. "You can barely walk."

"That's true," Yanis agreed. "I can go."

"You have a family to look after. I'm okay. I've more or less recovered from the shocks, and the cuts are only burning a little."

"That's not how it looks from here," Malcolm said.

"The ointment will take care of the cuts. What's the matter with you? Are we going to have a lengthy discussion or are we going to get Trip?"

* * *

 

Arms crossed behind his head, Trip stared at the ceiling. Briefly, he had considered crawling to the hatch to fasten the rope, but then he had decided not to waste his energy. Only Malcolm and Jeren could find him here and those two were the last people he would want to keep out. Tired, he let his thoughts wander. The first daylight was shining through the broken window, indicating that this terrible night was finally coming to an end. He sighed worriedly. Hopefully Malcolm had been able to rescue Jeren. Trip's insides clenched painfully when he thought about Jeren, who had been caught only because Tasur needed information where to find the human with the strange substance in his blood. Maybe the governor was torturing him right now to find out about Trip's whereabouts. If he only could do something to help, but he was condemned to just lie here and wait. The feeling of helplessness was making him nervous. He couldn't find any rest, even though he was plain exhausted. No surprises there, Trip thought. After all, this had been the second time that he had nearly died. Seems to become a habit, he thought bitterly. Awkwardly, he turned to one side. His joints still moved rather sluggishly, but at least they had started to react again. He remembered the minutes after the injection, the panic and agony he had suffered. The realization that he couldn't speak anymore, that once again he was totally paralyzed, had scared him to death. How often was he going to suffer like that until the T-14 was finally gone?

Something scraped at the hatch. Relieved, Trip propped himself up on his elbows. Malcolm was back. They had succeeded in saving Jeren and were now coming to get him. He smiled when the hatch opened, but his smile froze when he found himself facing the muzzle of an ancient gun.


	27. Chapter 27

Yawning, Malcolm leaned his head against the window. He had sat down in the passenger's seat so that Jeren could get some rest. He wouldn't say no to a few hours of sleep himself. This night seemed to stretch endlessly. As soon as Trip was back and he knew his friend was safe, he would lie down and sleep for the rest of the day. Slowly, his eyes drifted close. Just a few minutes...

He started when he heard Erianna utter a curse. "What happened?" he asked, alarmed. A moment later, however, he saw for himself what was wrong. A flitter with the governor's emblem on its sides was lifting off the ground, only a few meters away from where their shuttle was parked.

Erianna forced the flitter into a steep descending arc.

Malcolm grabbed for a hold. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to intercept them."

"You can't do that", Jeren warned from his place behind them. "It's too dangerous."

"Do you have any better ideas? You know as well as I do that they've got Trip in there. If we let them get away with him, he's dead. I don't think we'll manage to break into another official building to get him out. And I don't think they'll bother to take him to the Health Center this time."

She forced the flitter's nose down and rammed its side into the rear section of the governor's flitter whose driver reacted very fast and started to attack them as well. The flitter shook heavily and Jeren and Malcolm had difficulties staying on their seats. Small explosions could be heard from beneath the deck.

"It won't work, Erianna," Jeren exclaimed.

"It will." Erianna turned around and aimed for a head-on collision, following the other flitter when it swerved to the right. The two flitters smashed forcefully into each other, disabling each other's engines in the process. They trundled away from each other, finally crashing to the ground.

Stunned, Malcolm shook his head. He could smell smoke. Frantically, he looked around for its origin. Behind the rear chairs flames were flickering on the floor plating. Cursing, he jumped to his feet.

Erianna turned around. She seemed to be alright, except for a small gash on her forehead. "There's a fire extinguisher behind you, Malcolm," she told him. "The blue device."

Malcolm never would have recognized the thing as a fire extinguisher, but he needed only a few seconds to get it working, putting out the smoldering fire in an instant.

Erianna shook Jeren's shoulder. "Jeren, you alright?"

"Yeah." Jeren squinted his eyes shut. "Just give me a few minutes to count my bones."

"At least we stopped them from taking Trip away." Erianna looked out the window, trying to locate the other flitter.

"Can you see what they're doing?" Malcolm asked.

"They don't seem to be doing anything at the moment. Shall we have a look?"

"No." Malcolm shook his head. "We don't have any cover here. If we go outside now we'll be an easy target. Let's wait and see what they do." He looked at his friends. "Jeren, maybe you could pretend to have collapsed on the helm console, just in case they're going to look through the front window. Just play dead. Erianna, you come with me. We'll lie down on the floor. Here's a phaser. Hide it under your body, but in such a way that you'll be able to draw it immediately when there is need. You know what you have to do?"

"Of course."

Malcolm nodded appreciatively. Considering the fact that Erianna had never seen a phase pistol before they had met, she did a quite good job handling it. She would have been a good addition to his team back on Enterprise.

Furtively, Jeren glanced out the window. "They're coming."

"Can we fire at them?"

"No, they're using the trees for cover. Look out!"

With his arms spread, Jeren lay down on the helm while Malcolm and Erianna got down on the floor. Very carefully, two of the guards glanced through the window, assessing the situation. Then they could hear them fiddling around with the hatch.

"They think we're either dead or unconscious," Malcolm whispered in Erianna's direction. "Be prepared." He drew his pistol and held it loosely at his side. Erianna did the same.

The guards had definitely learned a lot from their previous encounters, since they were careful enough to stay outside the hatch and do a quick check of the flitter's interior. But despite the fact that they had their weapons at the ready they never had much of a chance to react. A bullet hit the shuttle's rear bulkhead, then both of the guards dropped to the ground, hit by Malcolm and Erianna's phaser beams.

"Good job," Malcolm complimented her.

Erianna smiled. "Let's go get Trip."

"Wait." Malcolm grabbed her arm. "In my experience, there's always three of them."

"That's right," Jeren agreed. "One of them must still be in the flitter, holding Trip hostage."

"I bet."

"So what can we do?" Erianna lowered herself to the floor again and gave Malcolm a questioning look. He didn't notice, however, his attention still focused on the governor's flitter. Suddenly there was a movement. The other flitter's hatch was opened, and Malcolm raised his phaser when a person appeared in the hatch.

"Damnit," he cursed when he recognized Trip. A second later his friend was violently kicked out of the hatch, landing face first on the grass. In no time the guard jumped out of the flitter after him and aimed his weapon straight at Trip's head.

"Listen, you people better do exactly as I say or your buddy will suffer. Drop your weapons on the ground and come out of the flitter, slowly and one after the other." To drive home his point, the guard grabbed Trip's wrists that were tightly bound together behind his back and pulled him up until the engineer was almost on his knees.

"What is he doing?" Erianna whispered, appalled. "Trip can't get to his knees."

"No, he can't," Jeren added hoarsely. "He's hanging on his arms with his whole weight. If this guy continues to pull him up like this he will dislocate his shoulders."

Malcolm's mind was racing. He could see Trip's contorted face even from the distance. There seemed to be nothing they could do. Trip's body provided a perfect cover for the guard. And they'd lost the element of surprise. It was impossible to hit the man without firing a phaser beam straight through Trip's head.

"I'm waiting!" the guard yelled, jerking at Trip's hands. Trip let out a cry of pain when his shoulder ligaments were stretched painfully.

Jeren gritted his teeth. "We have to give in, otherwise he'll break Trip's shoulders."

"We'll come out," Malcolm shouted. "But put him down first."

The guard shook his head. "I want you to drop both of your weapons to the ground."

Jeren grabbed Malcolm's arm. "He doesn't know that there's a third person in here, does he?"

"You've stayed in the background until now. I guess he hasn't noticed you. What are you getting at?"

"Do what he says. Try to stall for some time, but don't let him hurt Trip. I'll try to sneak around him and attack from behind."

"Let me go, Jeren," Erianna asked. "You're still not feeling well. I can move a lot quicker."

"But I'm sure he saw you at the helm. He knows that there's a woman in here. Don't worry about me, I'll manage. Cover me so that he doesn't see me open the other hatch."

Malcolm and Erianna both stood and held up their weapons so that the guard could see them, while Jeren crouched down and opened the hatch on the other side of the flitter only wide enough for him to duck through.

Erianna resisted the urge to turn around. "I hope this will work," she whispered anxiously. "Jeren is still very weak."

"He's our only chance," Malcolm whispered back. Then he shouted: "Here are the weapons." One after the other they threw the weapons out of the hatch. "Now put him down."

The guard looked at them for a moment, then lowered Trip to the ground, smirking. "You really don't want him hurt, do you?"

When the man looked at his weapon and let it carelessly fall into the grass, Malcolm felt a surge of hope. His heart sank, however, when he saw what the guard pulled from his belt instead.

"Malcolm," Erianna exclaimed beside him. "He's got a zapstick."

"I see." Malcolm uttered a silent curse. Their chances to overpower this man without harming Trip seemed to be very small.

"Come out! One after the other. Put up your hands and get slowly out of the flitter!"

Malcolm nodded at Erianna. "I'll go first." He raised his arms and slowly and awkwardly, he climbed out of the vehicle.

"Okay. Now the woman. Come closer so that I can see you." The guard had put his foot on Trip's back, the zapstick hovering closely over the commander's body. Malcolm could see the sparkle when the device was activated. The stick was charged and ready for use. The guard only needed to lower it a few centimeters and it would touch Trip's back. Briefly, Malcolm considered to surprise the man by diving for his phaser and to deliver a well-aimed shot, but that was not an option. If the man was hit by the phaser beam and fell down, the zapstick would come right down on Trip's back. And if he missed the target, Trip would be on the receiving end anyway. Malcolm had seen what these things could do. He would never do that to Trip. So they had no choice but to wait and hope that Jeren was going to take care of things. He must have retreated into the forest by now so that the guard wouldn't see him. But it was going to take him a while to walk around the clearing and get behind the governor's flitter. Malcolm hoped that Jeren was going to manage despite his injuries. Without really noticing what he was doing, he tried to detect some movements in the forest that would tell him about Jeren's whereabouts. But when he realized what he was doing, he returned his attention to the guard. He mustn't give away even by a single gesture that there was another person around.

In the meantime, Erianna had caught up with him, her hands raised as well. The guard stared at them. "You again," he spat.

"Do we know the guy?" Malcolm asked from the corner of his mouth. He couldn't recognize the face, but it might be due to the disfiguring bruise that had colored the man's cheek black and blue.

"It's the guy who was with Harek and Rassik when they came to get Trip. And I believe he was the one who was escorting the counselor earlier. You shot him."

"I see," Malcolm smiled grimly. "He doesn't seem to like us very much, does he?"

"Looks like he doesn't."

"Okay, let's do something to keep him occupied." Malcolm had been watching the man closely, but there was nothing he could do without endangering Trip. "So," he shouted. "What now?"

"Walk over here, slowly. Come on, move. But no tricks, or he'll pay for it." Threateningly, the guard swung the zapstick over Trip's back.

"Malcolm!" Trip yelled all of a sudden. "Don't care about me. Go get 'em!"

Malcolm held his breath. Why did Trip always have to shoot his mouth off and put himself in danger at the same time? Didn't he know that the man was holding a zapstick over his body? Malcolm could only hope the guard wouldn't use it to punish Trip.

The guard slammed his boot into Trip's back, until the engineer moaned loudly. "Put a sock in it! Or I will teach you to keep your mouth shut. Come on now," he shouted to Malcolm.

Walking slowly and carefully, Malcolm and Erianna crossed the clearing.

"Stop! That's far enough." The guard pulled a piece of rope out of his pocket and threw it to them, never taking his eyes off them or moving the zapstick while doing so. He pointed at Erianna. "You! Tie his hands on his back. But do it properly. If you try any tricks..." The guard didn't finish his sentence but lowered the zapstick until it nearly touched Trip's hands.

"It's okay," Erianna exclaimed hastily. "I'll do it. Leave him alone." She picked up the rope and Malcolm held his hands behind his back.

"Turn around so I can see what you're doing."

They turned around in a 90 degree angle and Erianna wound the rope around Malcolm's wrists. Suddenly, Malcolm saw from the corners of his eyes how the hand that held the zapstick was abruptly jerked to one side and at the same time a sturdy stick came down on the guard's neck. With a surprised cry of pain the man dropped to his knees. Jeren took the zapstick from his hand and pointed it angrily at the man's chest. "Don't move, buster, or you'll get a taste of that little toy yourself." He glanced at Trip. "You okay?"

"Yes, I am," Trip mumbled into the grass. "And damn glad you're safe."

Jeren smiled. "Yeah, they got me just in time." He looked back at the guard.

In the meantime, Erianna and Malcolm came running. Erianna still was trying to untie the rope around Malcolm's wrists, which was difficult because the lieutenant didn't take the time to stop. But eventually she succeeded. While Erianna used the rope to tie up the guard, Malcolm crouched down beside Trip.

"One should think you'd be fed up with being abducted by now, Commander. It's becoming something of a bore to pull your tail out of the fire all the time."

"Nice to see you, too, Malcolm," Trip answered. "Would you mind helpin' me with these things?"

Malcolm grinned briefly and untied the rope around Trip's wrists, then helped him to turn around and sit up. Getting down on his knees, he laid a supporting arm around Trip's shoulders. Trip's face contorted with pain when he tried to move his shoulders and Malcolm tightened his grip when his friend suddenly swayed.

Jeren handed the zapstick to Erianna and also got down to his knees rather awkwardly. "Does it hurt a lot?"

"It's okay now. I thought he'd pull off my arms."

Jeren looked at a bloody bruise in Trip's face. "They've beaten you."

Trip shrugged. "My fault. I'm not so cooperative when it comes to bein' captured."

"Just be glad they didn't use the zapstick. It's an awful device."

"I know."

Jeren frowned. "How would you know?"

"Rassik was as kind as to introduce me to it. I guess he would have loved to give me another shock, but Harek stopped him from doing so."

"Rassik," Malcolm cursed. "I'm really fed up with this guy."

"What about you?" Trip asked, pointing with his chin at Jeren's bandaged wrists and the bandage under his shirt.

"Rassik," Jeren said laconically.

"He beat him with an electroshock whip. I've never seen a thing as awful as that before," Malcolm added.

Trip inhaled in dismay and cursed. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," Jeren only said.

"But they tortured you because of me."

"Hey guys, I don't mean to interrupt," Erianna told them, "but I think we shouldn't stay here any longer."

"That's right," Trip agreed at once. "The guards contacted someone, askin' for reinforcement just after we'd crashed."

"So we have less than half an hour before Tasur's guard will be here."

"What about your flitter?" Malcolm asked.

"After the engines have been damaged by the fire?" Erianna shook her head. "There's nothing we can do."

"I could take a look at it," Trip suggested, but Erianna shook her head again.

"We don't have the time for this."

"And their flitter?" Trip pointed at the governor's vehicle.

Erianna jumped to her feet. "I'll try and assess the damage."

"Is there any way you could call for help?" Malcolm asked Jeren. "Ask someone to come and get us out of here?"

"Only Tasur's flitters are equipped with comm devices," Jeren answered, shaking his head in regret. "And that's only a direct link to the guards' comm station in the palace. I'm afraid we're on our own."

"So what can we do?" Malcolm asked. "Barricade ourselves in one of the vehicles and hope we can defend ourselves against them?"

"Tasur will send all of his men. We wouldn't stand a chance against thirty armed guards."

"Unlikely," Malcolm admitted. "All the more since our weapons are almost out of power. We have got only a few more shots."

"We can get the guards' weapons," Trip suggested.

"Yeah, but even if they're fully loaded it will only be thirty shots."

"Thirty shots, thirty hits. Would be enough."

"You're optimistic, Commander." Malcolm smiled.

"You know I am, Malcolm." Trip frowned. He knew his suggestion would never work. He had already found out that the flitter's bulkheads weren't bulletproof. If thirty men began firing at once they wouldn't stand even the slightest chance. Perhaps they could stay in their shuttlepod, but with the open window and the hatch that could only be secured with a rope it wouldn't be a good place to hide.

Erianna came back. "Not a chance," she told them. "Their engines are even more damaged than ours."

"So hiding in the forest would be the only possibility," Jeren stated.

Trip frowned. "But for how long? They won't stop searchin' for us."

"In the next town there are people who would help us," Erianna suggested. "People from the resistance movement who could hide us for a while."

"How far away is that town?" Malcolm wanted to know.

"About eight kilometers."

Eight kilometers through a thick forest. Thinking, Malcolm chewed on his bottom lip.

Trip looked at him, knowing what his friend was thinking about. "I could hide somewhere here in the neighborhood," he suggested.

"Forget it." Malcolm shook his head. "We're not going to leave you behind."

"Well, and what are you plannin' to do? You know I can't walk, and Jeren doesn't look like he can carry me."

"I'll carry you."

Trip and Malcolm turned to Erianna. "You?" Trip asked surprised.

"Of course. You know I'm strong enough."

"We know you are, but this isn't just a few meters like the time you carried me out into the backyard. It's eight kilometers through that forest."

"We'll just give it a try." Erianna had made up her mind. "We can't stay here and we're wasting time, discussing this. So let's go."

"Let's not rush things, Erianna." Jeren stopped his sister who was already bending down to pick up Trip. "We need to check first how much water there's left in the flitters."

"Nothing in ours," Erianna admitted ruefully. "I forgot to stock up the supplies."

"Perhaps they have got something." With his chin, Jeren pointed at the governor's vehicle. "And I wouldn't say no to some food either."

"I'll have a look." Erianna nodded and once more entered the flitter behind them.

"Yanis left a bottle of water with me in the shuttle," Trip told Malcolm. "It's still almost full."

"I'll get it." Malcolm got up, making sure that Trip had his hands firmly on the ground, and wouldn't lose his balance when the lieutenant suddenly let go.

While Malcolm went to the shuttle, Jeren tested Trip's reflexes and tried some exercises. "How do you feel, Trip? Any after-effects of the T-18?"

"Nothin', as far as I can tell."

"In any case your voice sounds a lot better now. How about your arms?"

"Except for the sore shoulders, they're fine. For a while they were feeling like chewing-gum, but it's okay now."

"And your legs?"

"No changes there."

Jeren smiled understandingly when he heard Trip's bitter tone of voice. He looked up when Erianna stepped out of the flitter with a bottle of water in her hands.

"I'm sorry, there's only one left."

"Did you find any food?"

"I'm afraid not. I've searched all the containers."

"That's bad news." Jeren looked at Trip. "We don't have any food in our flitter either, and since there's nothing but fried circuits in your shuttle I believe it'll be a while until we can get something to eat."

Trip nodded, but he wasn't really worried about food at the moment. He was thinking about their escape. He was sure that Erianna overestimated her strength. She would never be able to carry him across eight kilometers of uneven terrain. Sighing, he decided to forget about his worries for now when he saw Malcolm emerge from their shuttle, a bottle in his hand. Malcolm had also picked up their two phaser pistols and had taken the two guns from the unconscious guards who were still lying in front of Erianna's flitter. "Together they've got twelve shots," he stated. "How much about the other one?"

Trip rolled onto his side to grab the third weapon. After checking it, he looked up at Malcolm. "It's empty."

"Empty?" Malcolm exclaimed incredulously. "You mean this guy was threatening you with an empty weapon? And we fell for his little game hook, line and sinker."

"Calm down, Malcolm." With Erianna's assistance, Trip got into a sitting position again. "There was no way you could have known."

"You don't just drop a loaded weapon as carelessly as he did. I should have noticed."

"And what use would it have been?" Erianna asked. "We'd already lost our weapons at that point and don't forget about the zapstick. If you ask me, it's not important whether the weapon was empty or not. Well, not really, although we could use some more ammunition. I've looked in the flitter as well. There aren't any more bullets left." Erianna put the weapons and the bottles into her bag and handed it to Malcolm who slung it over his shoulders. "We've got to get going." She bent down to Trip and picked him up. "Hold on to my shoulders. We're on our way."


	28. Chapter 28

Jeren took the lead. In the beginning, the going was good and they made some headway, but after a while the forest grew denser and the ground became more uneven. Roots and rotten trees blocked their way.

"You know the way?" Malcolm asked Jeren who nodded.

Malcolm turned around to Erianna, suppressing a smile when he saw Trip in her arms. He knew how ridiculous his friend must be feeling, even though Trip didn't let it show. "Do you know where our scanner is, Commander? It might come in handy if we want to find out where the bad guys are hiding."

"I'm sorry, Malcolm," Trip said regretfully. "I broke it. When those guys came into the shuttle, I grabbed the first thing I got hold of and smashed it straight into that guy's face. Unfortunately it was the scanner."

Thinking of the guard's bruised face, Malcolm grinned. "Doesn't matter, I guess we'll find the bad boys without the scanner as well."

"Or they'll find us," Trip muttered. "Am I wrong or have we been walkin' zigzag for some time now?"

"No, you're not wrong," Jeren admitted. "Some of Tasur's new vehicles are equipped with heat sensors. If we stayed on a straight course, they'd be able to anticipate the direction we're heading in."

"Heat sensors?" Malcolm asked, appalled. "Why haven't you told us about that earlier?"

"I saw no reason to worry you. We can fool them by changing our course from time to time. The flitters can't be landed in the forest and the scanners are firmly integrated into the vehicles. They are prototypes with quite a short range."

"But they'd be able to intercept us when they realize in which direction we're headed."

"That's right, but they've got to land outside of the forest, and when they get to the position where they've located us, they won't know which direction we've taken."

"Don't they have portable comm devices to stay in contact with the flitter?"

"I don't think so."

Malcolm grimaced. Jeren didn't seem to know much about tactics. He just hoped that Tasur's guard didn't, either and wouldn't be able to anticipate their course. He assumed that those men had never had to perform a task like this and that this could be used as an advantage. All the time while following Jeren through the forest, Malcolm kept scanning their surroundings with his eyes, keeping an eye out for a safe hiding place, but to no avail. Hiding was not an option anyway as long as their pursuers used those heat sensors to locate them from their flitters. Perhaps it would have been best if they had separated. Four single spots on the scanners wouldn't have been noticed as quickly as those four spots clustered together. But they couldn't have split up even if they'd thought of it before. They were depending on each other. Trip couldn't walk and Jeren was stumbling more than walking, his coordination still failing sometimes as an after-effect of the electric jolts, although he was trying to hide it as well as he could.

Having worked with conduits themselves, both Malcolm and Trip had gotten their share of electric shocks, but even a charged EPS-conduit seemed to be nothing compared to the voltage in the zapstick and that whip. Malcolm shuddered when he remembered the sight of Jeren dangling from that chain. He asked himself why peaceful people like the Renelans would rely on such instruments of torture. He was sure Rassik used it not only to defend the governor and the palace.

Thinking of Rassik, the tactical officer felt a grim satisfaction. They surely had found him by now. For a short moment, Malcolm wished he had given Rassik some of his own medicine, had given him at least one lash with the whip. But this feeling vanished as quickly as it had come. Malcolm wasn't a brute like Rassik, and using violence against a man who was already down wasn't an option to him, even though the rage he had experienced when he had seen his tortured friend had not subsided yet.

Malcolm glanced at Trip. He, too, had been shocked with the zapstick, but unlike Jeren he seemed to be alright, and didn't seem to suffer of any after effects of the T-18, either. At least, they seemed to have a little bit of luck. Although Malcolm was sure his friend felt very uncomfortable with Erianna carrying him. He knew Trip well enough to know that he must be feeling more than a little embarrassed at the moment. Maybe it was a little old-fashioned, but sometimes Trip had this image of himself as the southern gentlemen who protected the women, but was not in turn protected by them. Especially not if "protected" meant being carried through a dark forest by a woman.

Malcolm smiled. A smile full of sympathy and bitterness. Trip had already suffered a lot back on Enterprise when the T-14 had been eating through his body, paralyzing it bit by bit, but the ordeal he was going through on this planet was even worse. He'd been roasted in the desert, persecuted because of his handicap, had nearly been killed, and now he had to endure the humiliation of Erianna carrying him like a little child. Malcolm knew he would have wished for the ground to open up and swallow him if he'd been in Trip's place. But in fact it was the best solution, since at the moment Erianna was undoubtedly the strongest one of them, even if Malcolm found that hard to admit. Still, he wondered how long she would be able to keep up carrying Trip's weight.

* * *

 

Trip could feel Erianna's arms growing weak. He'd been wondering how she found the strength to carry him that long; they had been underway for more than an hour now. For more than an hour, she had carried him on her arms, protecting him from loose-hanging branches and twigs and never allowing herself the slightest stumble. She was a strong woman, but she couldn't go on like this for an indefinite amount of time. Even she would reach her limits at some point. Trip bit his lip. He hated to be such a burden to his friends. Only because of him they were making such a slow progress. In fact, because of him they were in this hopeless situation at all.

Jeren stopped. He was panting and sweat was glistening on his forehead. "We should rest for a few minutes," he suggested.

"Yes," Malcolm agreed. "But not here." They stood on a grassy patch on a small clearing that was sunny and cozy. And provided a perfect view for all their pursuers who were patrolling the forest with their flitters.

Malcolm led them into the underbrush, seeking cover behind two big trees. "It's better here." He helped Trip so he could slide down to the ground and sit down. Erianna was panting when she sat down beside him. Jeren slowly got to his knees and lay down on his side, his eyes closed. Malcolm grabbed the bottles of water and handed them to Trip and Jeren.

"Are you in pain?" Erianna asked her brother, her voice carrying a worried undertone.

"It's okay." Jeren took a big gulp and handed the bottle over to Erianna. "The cuts are burning and my nerves still feel kind of wired. I'll be fine, though."

"Do you want me to have a look at your wounds?"

"No, that's okay. Kenan took good care of them. I don't think there's any more you could do. We don't even have a medkit with us." He smiled lopsidedly. "What about you, Trip?"

"I'm fine." Trip handed his bottle over to Malcolm. "But Erianna is beat. She can't carry me any longer."

"That's not true," Erianna stated. "Of course I can carry you. As long as is necessary."

"You can't." Malcolm had noticed her exhausted condition as well.

"Listen, why don't you leave me behind?" Trip said. "I'm only slowing you down."

"And what do you suggest you do then?" Malcolm asked through gritted teeth, showing clearly how much he disapproved of this proposal.

For a short moment, Trip pressed his lips together. "Look, Malcolm," he said then. "You have to admit it's not very clever to drag a dead weight with you when you're on the run."

"A dead weight?"

"Dammit, Malcolm, I'm only slowin' you down. Erianna is beat, and Jeren can't carry me either, injured as he is. It would be best for me to hide somewhere around here and wait for you to come back with help."

"It won't work, Trip," Jeren disagreed in a gentle tone of voice.

"Why not?"

"Because you can't hide well enough so they won't find you."

"Because of those heat sensors?"

"Right."

"They're searchin' for four signs that stay together. I think a single one wouldn't catch their attention. I suppose I'm not the only livin' bein' in this wood. They will have all the animals on their sensors as well. They'll think I'm one of them. They can't possibly check on every heat source."

Jeren sighed. "You and Malcolm have a higher temperature than any living being on this planet. Your signals are lighting up their sensors like a beacon. You can't hide. And you couldn't even run when they come for you. We can't just leave you behind."

Trip just stared at him. It just didn't seem fair. He was endangering their small party a lot more than he had thought. Not only that he slowed them down, together with Malcolm he was providing a distinct signal on the guards' scanners, enabling their enemies to locate them at any time. Trip was furious, at himself and at his damned helplessness that prevented the others from getting away. "Is this never goin' to stop?" he asked, suddenly feeling very exhausted and hopeless.

"I could stay with Trip," Malcolm suggested. "I could defend us while you go and get help."

Jeren shook his head. "It would take too long for us to return. If you stay here, they'll find you in no time at all. And how long would you be able to defend yourselves with these poor weapons? They'd have found and killed you for sure until we came back. Besides there's another problem. Neither Erianna nor I are very familiar with this forest. We know in which direction we have to go, but we'd never find our way back."

Erianna stood up. "Come on guys, we have to get going. And we're going to stay together, and that's that." She bent down to Trip, but he shook his head.

"You can't carry me any longer, Erianna. You're exhausted. You have to leave me behind. I don't want to be responsible for you getting caught as well."

Malcolm stood up, too. "I can carry you."

Trip looked at him. "I appreciate it, Malcolm, but..."

"Don't tell me that I can't." Malcolm tightened his posture. "I managed to do so under worse conditions, remember?"

Of course Trip remembered how Malcolm had hauled him across the moon to their shuttle after he had been injected with the T-14 and couldn't move his legs. Trip chewed on his bottom lip. He didn't want to do this to Malcolm yet again.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Malcolm," Jeren voiced his doubts as well.

Now it seemed the tactical officer had enough of it. "Would you please stop it?" His tone was curt and sounded very British to Trip's ears. "I know you Renelans are stronger than we humans are, but that doesn't mean that we don't have any strength at all. I'll carry Trip as far as is necessary. And now let's go." He squatted in front of Trip. "Erianna would you be so nice as to help him get comfortable on my back?"

Slowly, Malcolm stood up. He took a hold of Trip's thighs and balanced the weight on his back. He gave Jeren and Erianna a challenging look. "Are you with us?"

Trip clung to Malcolm's shoulders. He still wasn't convinced that this was a good idea. "You could put me across your shoulders," he suggested. "Like you did on the moon. It would be easier to carry me."

"And I'd be banging you against every branch that's in our way. Well, perhaps it would knock some of that stubbornness out of you." Malcolm sighed. "I'll manage, Trip. I'm not as weak as everyone may think."

Trip allowed himself a slight smile. Look who's talking about stubbornness. But Trip could understand why his friend felt hurt, although it changed nothing about his guilty feeling. How far would Malcolm be able to walk with him on his back? One kilometer? Two perhaps? The ground was uneven and covered with roots and intertwined tendrils of creeping plants. Bushes and twines were hindering their progress. It was hopeless. Sooner or later the guards would catch them. They couldn't escape those heat sensors. Tasur just had to mobilize all his forces and the chase would be soon over. And what would happen then? Would they bother to bring him to the Health Center once again or would they simply kill him right then and there? Trip knew that in all probability, that was what would happen. He was worried about his friends. Jeren and Erianna had turned their life inside out for him. They couldn't go back to living like they had before. Even if they managed to escape this time, they would be on the run for the rest of their lives. Hiding from Tasur and the consequences of Renelan policy. All because of him. He was to blame for all the bad things that were happening. Perhaps it would have been better if he had died in the desert instead of surviving and getting all those people into trouble.

"Hold on to my shoulders, Trip," Malcolm grunted and Trip realized that he unconsciously had loosened his grip.

"You sure you're okay, Malcolm?" he asked, reinforcing his grip. "I'm way too heavy for you."

"Stop it, Trip! I can carry you as long as I have to."

Trip knew for sure that he would, too. Malcolm would never let him down. Trip's heart contracted painfully when he thought of all the things his friends were doing for him. What had he done to deserve them risking their lives for him? He suppressed a yawn, feeling an irrational surge of anger directed at himself. He needed to pull himself together. Malcolm was hauling him through these woods and he was almost nodding off. He felt Jeren's eyes on him and shot him a warning look. Right now he couldn't stand any well-meant comments about the fighting poisons in his body. There was no way he was going to ask for a few minute's rest. Jeren nodded understandingly and kept his mouth shut.

* * *

 

"How far still?" Malcolm asked after what seemed to him like an eternity. His back was aching and his arms could barely hold Trip's weight, but giving in wasn't an option.

"I guess we've made nearly half of the way," Jeren told him.

"Half of the way?" Malcolm was appalled. He realized that their slow progress must be due to the zigzag course Jeren had chosen to get rid of their pursuers. Up until now it had worked, although Malcolm sometimes had the impression that he heard something or someone sneaking around in the underbrush. But his senses were starting to fool him, due to his exhaustion and tiredness. He was barely able to lift his feet high enough so as not to stumble over the roots and dead branches on the ground.

"I can take over," Erianna offered. "I'm not that tired."

"Quiet!" Jeren raised his hand, warningly. "Do you hear that?" He looked up. Over the tree tops a vehicle with the governor's glittering sign on its hull came into view. It was circling above the trees, scanning for them.

"They've seen us," Erianna hissed. "Let's run."

"It doesn't make sense to run now, Erianna," Jeren told her. "At the moment they can't harm us. They'll have to land first and that's impossible in the forest."

"They really don't seem to have any radio units to guide the search parties in our direction," Malcolm stated, once again surprised at the guards' stupidity.

"Yes, or they would have caught up with us a long time ago."

"That means we've got a head start." Malcolm looked around. "Where shall we go?"

"Over there." Jeren pointed to some thorny shrubs that covered the whole area to their right. "Perhaps they won't be able to follow us in there."

"Great," Trip mumbled, pulling himself more closely towards Malcolm's back.

With his bare hands Jeren held apart the branches and twines. Lots of the bushes they were passing had prickly thorns that got caught in their clothes and ripped them. Trip cursed silently when one of the twines tore along his bare forearm. He swore to never go on an away mission again without his uniform.

Malcolm stumbled over a root, only barely staying on his feet.

"You need a rest, Malcolm," Trip insisted gently.

"Not now, Commander. We have to get a move on."

"But it won't make any sense if you collapse with exhaustion. Why don't you let Erianna carry me again?"

"As soon as we're out of this brushwood."

Trip gave in. He didn't have a chance of talking Malcolm out of his opinion.

After twenty minutes the going got better. The lush treetops created a thick layer of leaves which allowed only little light to pass through. Therefore the ground was less overgrown and easier to walk on.

Erianna came near, giving Trip a sign. He nodded and let go of Malcolm's shoulders, putting his arm around her neck. When she pulled Trip off Malcolm's back, the lieutenant turned around in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"You need a break, Malcolm. I told you I can carry him again."

"Okay, if you say so." Malcolm gave in, trying not to let anyone notice that he was rather short of breath. "Do you think we got rid of them?"

Abruptly, a sharp bang cracked through the forest. Some birds rose in the air, chirping angrily. The next bullet hit a tree five meters away from the small group of fugitives, sending splinters of wood flying.

"Shit," Jeren cursed. "I don't think so. Get moving, we have to find some cover."

They broke into a run. Loud voices were calling out not too far behind them. Malcolm could have kicked himself. Why hadn't he heard their pursuers catching up? He should have realized that they were closing in.

Jeren stopped in his tracks. "We can't go on in this direction," he panted. "We're almost at the desert."

Malcolm looked around. Through the trees he could make out patches of glittering sand. Escaping into the desert wasn't an option, it would be a walk-over for their pursuers to shoot them out there. "Go," he shouted, pushing Jeren into the other direction. "I'll give you covering fire."

Noticing a movement behind some bushes, Malcolm fired his phaser. He wasn't able to see anyone, but a pain-filled cry told him that he had scored a hit. He fired a few more times but then realized that he had to save the phaser's charge which was almost used up anyway. However, Tasur's men didn't know that. They seemed to believe he could go on firing forever, and were careful to stay behind the trees where he wasn't able to hit them.

Malcolm ran after his friends when he heard voices coming closer from his right. "We can't escape," he stated. "They're encircling us."

"What do you suggest?" Trip asked.

"We need to search for a hiding place. But we can't keep them at bay for long. The energy in the phasers is very low."

"We still have the guards' weapons."

"Twelve shots. That won't get us very far."

"We need help." Erianna panted under Trip's weight.

"But who would help us?"

Jeren looked around. "If we could hide somewhere and barricade the entry, perhaps Erianna would be able to sneak around them and get help from the town. It can't be very far now. If we distracted them somehow, she might be able to slip through their lines and reach our friends."

"I thought neither of you would find the way back?"

"We're much closer to the town now. We'll just give it a try."

Malcolm looked at the young woman, unsure if Jeren's suggestion was such a good idea, after all. They might be closer to the town, but on the other hand their pursuers were getting closer as well. When Erianna came back it would probably be too late. And even if she did manage to reach the town, then who was she going to ask for help? Her friends from the resistance movement were normal citizens who had no experience in fighting and most of all, no weapons. How were they supposed to fight Tasur's guard? But it was the best chance they had. At least Erianna would be safe. Malcolm assumed this was Jeren's plan. To get his sister out of danger. He nodded. "Okay, let's give it a try." Scanning their surroundings, Malcolm eventually spotted two huge fallen trees that lay across each other on the ground and were covered with twines. In front of them was an open area that would make it very difficult to sneak up to them from this side. It wasn't a very good hiding place, but it was going to have to do. He pointed it out to the others. "Over there." Gesturing for Jeren and the rest to duck down behind the trees, Malcolm ran into the other direction, firing his phaser to mislead the guards. It worked. Their shouts and the sound of their boots on the forest ground told him that all the men were following the flashing rays from his phaser. It was so easy to manipulate them. All the same, it wasn't going to be long until they realized what was going on.

Firing a second and third time, Malcolm led the guards further away from his friends' hiding place, then turned around and, with a little detour, sneaked back to the fallen trees. Erianna had set Trip down on the ground and was ready to leave.

"Jeren should go with you", Malcolm suggested.

Jeren looked at him. "I know what you're trying to do, Malcolm, and I appreciate it. But Erianna will be faster without me. I'm rather beat."

Seeing Jeren's exhausted and sweaty face and the slight trembling of his arms and legs, Malcolm knew he was right. Nodding, he turned to Erianna. "It would be best to go into the direction of the desert. They won't be looking for you there. But be careful not to leave the shelter of the trees, there's at least one of their vehicles patrolling out there. Stay close to the edge of the wood. Let's hope they won't notice you."

Erianna nodded. She looked from one of the men to the other, then ducked to the ground and disappeared between the trees.

"Good luck," Jeren murmured.

Trip kept watch behind the fallen trees while Malcolm piled up loose brushwood and twines to improve their shelter. It wasn't very long until he felt sweat trickling down his forehead, but when he inspected his handiwork in the end, he found that it had been worth the effort. No one could approach them from the sides without being noticed, and the brushwood would absorb the guards' bullets. They only had to keep an eye on the open side which faced the desert.

He sat down beside Trip, allowing himself a big gulp of water. Their pursuers had retreated but he knew they were still there. They weren't in a hurry, they had all the time in the world to come up with a plan.

Malcolm felt nervous. He calculated how long Erianna would need to reach the town, find her friends and come back with them. Perhaps they could use the proximity of the desert to their advantage. Out there, they would be able to land a flitter. If he could retain enough energy in the phasers to keep the guards at bay while Jeren brought Trip out of here to the waiting flitter, and if he managed to reach them quickly enough so they could take off before the guards realized what was going on, it might be an option worth thinking about. But this plan included too many unknown factors, the most precarious of them that they never would be able to keep their enemies at bay long enough for Erianna to come back.

Malcolm started badly when a branch snapped behind him. He raised his phaser and was just about to pull the trigger when he recognized Erianna.

"Erianna," he whispered and heard the word being echoed by Trip and Jeren. "I thought..."

"I'm sorry," Erianna answered. "There are too many of them. They've encircled us completely. I might have been able to break through their lines, but only by running straight into the desert."

"I suppose that's what they plan to do," Jeren said. "Drive us out into the desert where they can take us down with no trouble at all. They could stay covered by the trees and shoot us one by one."

Appalled, Erianna looked at her brother. "You think they would simply shoot us down? I can't believe that."

"Well, I can. Who's going to stop them from doing so? No one would know what happened out here in the forest. No one would protest. We'd just disappear. No one knows about Trip and Malcolm, and there are only few people who'd notice our disappearance."

"But Arissa, Yanis and Kenan would get suspicious."

"And what could they do? Accuse Tasur of murder? No one would listen to them. Our documentation might change a few things, but that's not going to help us in dealing with the guards. They don't know anything about the evidence we have gathered, and assume that nothing can ever happen to them. Have you been able to find out how many of them are out there?"

"I think it's the whole bunch of them."

"Except for Rassik, I'd say. So it's thirty men against four."

"Shit." Trip looked at Malcolm. "What are we goin' to do, Lieutenant?"

Malcolm grabbed the phasers and tossed one of them to Trip. "We're going to fight, Commander."


	29. Chapter 29

Trip peered over the rotten tree trunk behind which they were hiding. He couldn't see anyone, but from time to time he thought he could make out sneaking shadows in the distance. From his current position, he wouldn't be able to hit them, though. They couldn't afford wasting their phaser energy. The weapons were almost empty as it was. Malcolm had given him one of the old pistols and had explained its functions to him, but Trip wasn't so sure he would be able to handle it. At least not at this distance.

Tasur's men were waiting, maybe considering what to do next. Perhaps the guards didn't know exactly where the fugitives were hiding, and didn't want to give away their own whereabouts. Sporadically, they fired a few shots from different directions, but they never hit anything. But it wasn't going to stay that way for long. The brushwood Malcolm had piled up was still concealing them from view, but the guards knew that they were somewhere out here. If Tasur's men decided that they had been waiting long enough and began to search for them, they wouldn't stand a chance. There was no way they could get away from this place. And Trip knew only too well that it was because of him that they couldn't make their escape. Like Malcolm, he was racking his mind for a way to get away, but there wasn't any. Behind them, there were only a few trees between them and the open desert and Tasur's men had surrounded them on the other three sides. Maybe his friends would have a chance trying to break free, but not if they had to drag him along. Although Jeren didn't look like he could run, either. Exhausted, the Renelan doctor lay beside him on the ground, his eyes closed. Worriedly, Erianna laid a hand on his shoulder. Trip felt his forehead. Since he had learned that Renelans had a lower temperature than humans, he was sure that Jeren was running a fever. Which wasn't surprising after the efforts of the last hours. While she had been carrying him through the forest, Erianna had told him softly how they had found Jeren and what Rassik had done to him. Chalk up another disaster which had happened only because of him. He had felt so guilty about it that Erianna had tried to comfort him, but she hadn't been able to convince him that it wasn't his fault. If it wasn't for him, all this trouble would have never even happened.

"There's a way to escape, y'know," he said.

Malcolm looked up. "What would that be?"

"I could try to negotiate with the guards. I'll tell them I'll come peacefully if they let you go."

Erianna shook her head vehemently. Awkwardly, Jeren sat up with his sister's help and Malcolm just stared at Trip. "Do you really think we'd turn you over to these murderers, Commander? What do you think they'd do if they got a hold of you? Let you go?"

"But it might save your lives."

Jeren shook his head. "We appreciate your offer, Trip, but even if we agreed to let you go they would never negotiate with us. They would turn you over to Dorsik and then chase us anyway. Your sacrifice would be senseless."

"I know why you're doing this," Malcolm said so softly that only Trip could hear him. "If I was in your place I would suggest the same thing. But if you think about it you'll have to admit that Jeren's right. They can't afford to let us go, no matter if they've got you or not. Stop blaming yourself, it's not your fault that we're in this mess. It's the planet and its policy, not you."

"But I feel so damn guilty, Malcolm. It's a matter of fact that we're trapped here only because of me."

"Is it your fault you can't walk?" Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "If one of us were in your place, would you turn them over to Tasur's men?"

Frustrated, Trip shook his head and sighed deeply.

"See? So don't ask the same thing of us."

"But it's my fault that Jeren and Erianna got involved in this. We have to at least try and save them. The three of you could run into the desert and along the edge of the wood to find another hidin' place."

"It would make no sense, Trip. They're still patrolling the area out there. They'd detect us at once. And stop talking as if we're going to leave you behind. I told you, we're not going to do that."

Trip closed his eyes. "I'm so fed up, Malcolm," he whispered, barely audibly. "I'm so damned fed up with all of this."

Malcolm laid a comforting hand on his arm. "I know, Trip, I know." He raised his hand to cover a yawn. Truth be told, he was fed up, too. He was so tired he felt as though he could go to sleep this very moment. He'd been on his feet for more than thirty hours now and it didn't look as if he was going to get some sleep soon.

The two men startled when a bullet hit the rotten tree in front of them.

"Damn," Malcolm cursed. "Was that just luck or have they discovered us?"

"The latter, I'm afraid," Trip muttered, searching for cover when more bullets started to whiz past their heads.

Malcolm peered over the tree trunk. Tasur's men were closing in on them, always searching for cover so they wouldn't become a target themselves. "Here we go." He checked his phaser. "Let's kick their arses. Don't forget these pistols have a drift of at least ten degrees to the left." He fired his phaser and the first of the attackers crumpled to the ground. Two of the men pulled their colleague out of the line of fire while the others seemed to fire their guns at once. In a hard staccato the bullets hit the surrounding bushes and trees.

Erianna suppressed a scream and tried to protect Jeren with her body when the bullets sent the dust around them flying. Horrified, she looked at Trip and Malcolm, her face a pale mask. She might have been hoping to find another way to escape, but now she knew for sure they were standing with their backs to the wall. There was no way out.

Still, it didn't take her long to get a grip on herself again. "Give me one of the weapons, Malcolm. One of those pistols, maybe. I can handle it. Harek showed me how they work when he joined the guard."

Malcolm considered her request. She was a brave woman, but would she be able to kill a person if necessary? He didn't feel comfortable with the thought. "You can't set these weapons on stun, Erianna. But perhaps Trip will give you his phaser."

Trip agreed, knowing what Malcolm was thinking. He handed Erianna his phaser. Then he fired two bullets from his pistol when he saw a movement behind a tree. A cry of pain told him that he had hit his target.

Malcolm gave him an approving look. "Good shooting, Commander. It's not easy to hit with these old-fashioned things."

"Guess it was only by accident." Somewhat frustrated, Trip looked at the crude weapon.

"Nevertheless, my compliments. Look out!"

Trip couldn't react fast enough when suddenly three men emerged in front of the tree trunk. Neither Malcolm nor any of the others had heard them approaching. Erianna, however, raised her weapon at once. She fired, not taking the time to aim, but she couldn't miss at this short distance. Malcolm placed a hit with the phaser, too, but Trip missed the guard he had aimed at when the man jumped out of harm's way and went for cover.

Malcolm lifted the two unconscious men off the tree trunk where they had fallen, taking their weapons. "Only a few shots left," he said after checking them.

"Better than nothin'." From his place on the ground, Trip looked up to Malcolm and grimaced. "Even though I keep missin' my targets."

"I told you these things aren't easy to handle. You're doing fine." Malcolm handed Trip one of the two weapons, trying to look confident. But he couldn't fool Trip who knew that they weren't going to last much longer.

As if to confirm his thoughts, they suddenly heard some loud yells when about a dozen of Tasur's men started an attack.

"Fire!" Malcolm exclaimed.

They kept shooting until the ancient weapons were almost empty. They couldn't really hit anyone because of the distance, but they managed to drive back the guards who, startled by their vehement reaction, retreated back into the underbrush.

"Malcolm!" Jeren suddenly exclaimed.

They whirled around when they were suddenly attacked from both sides. A bulky man crashed into Malcolm and the lieutenant lost his weapon, but he was able to defeat his opponent in hand-to-hand combat. Trip managed to shoot a bullet into another man's leg and Erianna stunned a third one with her phaser.

Trip raised his weapon again when another man attacked him, but there was only a faint click when he tried to fire the old-fashioned gun. The man grinned and kicked the weapon out of Trip's hand. Trip tried to dodge the blow when he saw the man's fist coming, but his motionless legs pinned him to the ground. He blocked the hit, but only a split second later he received a painful blow in the ribs. Suddenly, however, the attacker's eyes rolled up and he dropped down onto the ground beside him. Behind him, Trip could see Jeren who was holding the weapon he had used to knock out the guard.

"Thanks," Trip murmured.

"You're welcome." Jeren was panting. "You okay?"

Trip nodded and looked around. Erianna had knocked out another attacker and the guard with the injured leg seemed to have lost consciousness as well. Trip turned to Malcolm who had managed to render two more guards unconscious, and was now searching their pockets. "Damn."

"What's up?"

"They don't have any weapons."

Trip grimaced. "They didn't want to provide us with more ammunition. The other ones were only distractin' us while these guys were supposed to surprise us. Probably thought that it would be child's play, six of them fightin' the four of us in hand-to-hand combat. All the more so since two of us are barely able to move."

"Seems they still haven't learned not to underestimate us."

"But we won't be able to hold off the next attack." Trip checked the weapons. "They're all empty." He asked Erianna for his phaser and checked the energy level. Seeing that there was hardly any power left, he shook his head in frustration.

Sighing, Malcolm looked at his own phaser. Tasur's men still had a healthy respect for the phase pistols, but that would change soon when they noticed that the phasers' energy was gone and the outworlders weren't able to defend themselves any longer. Well, but that was no reason to give up. Malcolm was determined to fight until his last breath and he was sure Trip felt the same way about it. But what could they do, four people against a bunch of trained security guards? Trip couldn't do much with his paralyzed legs and Jeren wasn't very fit, either. Erianna was brave and determined, but she was inexperienced in combat. So it was his job to defend them. He didn't even know how many adversaries he would have to face. The more they managed to knock out the more they seemed to get.

One of Tasur's men gave up his hiding place, charging towards them, firing and shouting. Fortunately, he wasn't one of Tasur's better shots, and hardly any of the bullets he fired came anywhere near them. Trip raised his phaser and fired.

"Nice shooting," Malcolm complimented him when the man stumbled and sprawled on the ground, unconscious. "Keep up the target practice, and I'm going to seriously consider adding you to my security team."

"I'll stick with Engineerin' for the time bein', but thanks anyhow. Besides, I don't think I'll be able to practice much longer." Trip aimed at another man. "My phaser's energy is at minimum. How about yours?"

"The same. I only have a few shots left." Malcolm focused on a small group hiding among the bushes and fired in their general direction. Once again they had managed to fight off the attack. The men retreated, but kept firing from the distance. Malcolm snorted derisively. These men just seemed to lack the motivation to carry through a well-planned offensive. If they had only taken the time to think of a proper strategy and showed more determination while attacking the enemy, they would have won this unequal match long ago.

But their adversaries seemed unable to agree on one strategy, attacking only in small groups or even individually. With grim amusement, Malcolm thought that perhaps he should have accepted Tasur's offer to join the guard. He would have whipped them into shape before they knew it. He cursed silently when his next shot missed its target. Lousy strategists or not, in the meantime it did seem as though Tasur's men were going to win this one.

Suddenly Trip looked up, straining his ears as he listened. Almost drowned out by the whistling of the bullets, there was another sound that seemed vaguely familiar. He raised his head to concentrate on the sound.

"Take cover," Malcolm yelled. "Or do you want to lose your head?"

Trip ducked down into the grass. "D'you hear that, Malcolm?"

"Yes, of course, they're getting better. Never got so much practice before, I guess."

"That's not what I mean. Listen."

Malcolm strained his ears. Looking at Trip, he suddenly held his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. "That can't be," he said hoarsely. "It just can't be."

"What's that?" Erianna asked who had also become aware of the steady humming. "Doesn't sound like one of our vehicles."

"It's one of ours. Our second shuttlepod. Enterprise's here." Trip closed his eyes and a silly grin spread on his face.

"We're not out of here, yet, Trip," Malcolm warned him.

"Right." Trip propped himself up on his elbows. "I guess they've located the emergency signal in your arm pocket, but they can't take the shuttle into the forest. You've gotta go out there, Malcolm, so they see where we are and can come to get us out of here."

"Okay. You'll manage?"

Trip glanced at his phaser and forced a confident smile. "Of course. Hurry up, but be careful that they don't see you."

Malcolm turned around and crawled into the direction where the trees thinned out, using every cover he could find. But there were only a few trees standing here and there, and hardly any grass which would provide additional cover. The forest ground was already showing signs of the nearby desert, covered here and there with small patches of sand that had been blown in by the wind. Malcolm took a deep breath and left his cover. Keeping his head down, he ran to the edge of the woods, zigzagging in order to spoil his enemies' aim. He was just passing the last tree when he heard a shot and something hit his side, sending him stumbling. He staggered along for a few more steps, then stumbled and fell, sprawling on the ground.

"Malcolm," Trip yelled when he saw Malcolm going down. For a moment he forgot about his paralyzed legs, not thinking as he tried to jump up and to run to his friend. He almost lost his balance as his legs refused to obey the orders of his brain, and had to grab hold of the tree trunk to keep himself steady. Jeren laid a comforting hand on his back. "Stay calm, Trip, there's no use in getting upset." Frowning, he stared over to where Malcolm lay. "He's alive, Trip, he is moving. We're going to try to get over there and help him. Erianna?"

His sister nodded. "What about your phase pistol, Trip?"

Trip checked the charge. "I have two or three more shots left, at the most."

"Okay, give me covering fire, I'll check on Malcolm."

Trip was going to object, but Erianna had already turned around, disappearing into the brushwood. Trip threw a glance around. The guards had ceased fire for the moment, but maybe they were keeping an eye out for suspicious movements. Okay, he could provide for that. Trip picked up a branch from the ground and threw it as far away as he could.

In an instant, weapons' fire flashed behind the trees and the branch bounced around, hit by several bullets.

"Damn, they're gettin' better," Trip cursed, aiming at a guard who had left his cover. The man dropped to the ground, unconscious. Trip succeeded to hit another one but had to take cover again after doing so. He turned around. Erianna had managed to get to Malcolm and was pulling him to his feet. He didn't seem to be severely injured. Trip exhaled in relief. Supporting him, Erianna guided Malcolm out of the forest while she fired his phaser several times to keep their pursuers at bay.

Trip looked over to Jeren. "I'm gonna try and distract them. You go and try to get to the shuttle."

Jeren shook his head. "I won't leave you behind, Trip. It's both of us going, or I'm staying here."

Trip considered their chances. The men had retreated to their cover, not realizing that he had energy for only one more shot. They had to try and escape now, or they wouldn't stand a chance.

"Okay," he nodded. "Go on, I'll follow you."

"You can't crawl the whole way, Trip. The ground's much too uneven. Your feet would get caught in the roots all the time."

"But you can't carry me. Don't tell me you're not in pain. I can see it on your face."

"I'll manage," Jeren objected.

"Not with these injuries. You can hardly stand on your own legs."

"We don't have time to argue, Trip. Just give it a try. Hold on to me." Jeren slid his arms under Trip's upper body and his knees and awkwardly picked him up. He inhaled sharply when a stinging pain shot through the cuts on his chest and back, but he didn't let go. Holding Trip against his chest, he began to walk taking slow, unsteady steps.

"Stop, Jeren!"

Recognizing the voice, Jeren stiffened for a moment, but then he went on.

"Jeren! I said stop! Don't force me to shoot."

"It's Harek," Trip whispered.

"I know. But he won't shoot."

"You sure?"

"He used to be my best friend, Trip. You don't shoot your friends." Jeren made an effort to pick up his pace.

"Jeren!" Desperation seeped into Harek's voice. Then a bullet whizzed through the forest. Trip felt Jeren wince when the bullet hit him, felt him sway and lose his balance. The engineer tried to block the fall with his shoulders as he hit the ground, but without his legs it was an exercise in futility. He looked back at Jeren who lay two meters behind him. Next to his shoulder, a puddle of blood was spreading. Awkwardly, Trip turned around and crawled back until he was at his friend's side.

"No, Trip," Jeren whispered with a voice full of pain. "You can't help me. Leave me behind, look after yourself. You have to reach your shuttle."

"No way, I won't leave you behind." When Trip looked up he saw Harek approaching, carefully and with his weapon at the ready. At least ten of his colleagues were waiting in the background, keeping a respectful distance. When Trip became aware of just how hopeless their situation was, he felt anger well up inside him. Here they were, only a few steps away from safety, but neither he nor Jeren would ever make it. Trip raised his phaser and with the last remaining bit of energy that was left in the weapon, he shot Harek.

It's over, he thought when the rest of the guard wouldn't retreat despite the fact that their leader lay, unconscious, on the ground. They walked around Harek, getting closer. Trip pulled the trigger once more, but the phaser didn't react. It was empty.

Suddenly, two legs appeared next to his head and a tall figure positioned himself protectively in front of him. It was Ensign Hanks, armed with two phaser pistols which he was firing continuously. Trip's eyes filled with tears of sheer relief.

The men of the guard retreated in a hurry. They couldn't adapt to unexpected situations and didn't know what to do. Several of them had already dropped to the ground, which caused a major commotion among the rest of them. There were several good reasons why Hanks was part of Malcolm's team, one of them being that he was a very capable shot. With nearly every phaser beam he hit one of the guards. The men seemed at a loss what to do. As fast as possible they ran for cover behind the trees, firing from the distance.

A moment later, Travis Mayweather knelt down beside Trip. "Commander, you okay?"

"Yes. Can you take my friend to the shuttle, Travis?"

"But, Commander..."

"Take care of him. That's an order, Ensign. I'll manage on my own."

"Okay, sir." Travis grabbed Jeren under his armpits and dragged him out of the forest.

Trip watched them for a few seconds, then he glanced up at Ensign Hanks, who had protectively crouched down in front of the engineer, carefully scanning the forest with his eyes.

"You'll be alright givin' me coverin' fire, Jason?" Trip asked.

"As long as necessary, Commander." Hanks didn't look down at him, still firing well aimed shots into the wood to keep their pursuers at bay. From time to time, a bullet whizzed past his ears, but the ensign seemed perfectly calm. "You'll manage?" he asked.

"Sure, I'll be fine. Be careful, Jason. Those bullets are meant to kill." Trip turned around and began to crawl over the uneven ground. Jeren had been right. His feet did indeed get caught in the roots, he couldn't move as fast as he had thought. He had only covered a few meters when someone's outstretched hands appeared in his field of vision.

"Let me help you."

Trip smiled at the familiar voice. Relieved, he grabbed the captain's wrists and allowed him to drag him over the ground.

Protectively, Archer shielded Trip with his body when some bullets hit the brushwood around them. "What do they want, anyway?"

"Me, mostly," Trip panted. It wasn't very comfortable to be dragged across the forest ground, but with all the bullets that were still fired in their direction it was best to stay close to the ground.

"What did you do this time?" Archer wanted to know. His breathing became labored with the effort of bringing his friend out of danger as fast as possible.

"You're not gonna believe it, Jon. They're pissed off because of my paralyzed legs."

"Come on, Trip, I'm not buying that." As soon as they had reached the open desert, Archer let go of Trip's wrists and bent down to pick him up.

"It's the truth, Jon." Trip peered back at the forest, and a moment later, Jason Hanks appeared behind them. In the meantime, most of the guards had stopped shooting. Tasur's men weren't willing to give up their safe cover, and none of them dared to follow them into the desert. Hanks kept covering them with his body, though, never taking his eyes from the edge of the wood.

* * *

 

Travis was surprised when a few meters before he had reached the shuttle, the young woman showed up whom they had already met a few minutes ago, when she had been helping Malcolm make his way out of the forest. Smiling apologetically, she took the unconscious body of Commander Tucker's alien friend out of his arms.

"Um…" Travis opened his mouth to say something, but she had already turned around making her way to the shuttle and carrying the tall man like he weighed nothing at all. When Travis turned around, he saw the captain pulling the commander out of the wood and Ensign Hanks bringing up the rear. They seemed to have the situation under control. Travis nodded and returned his attention to his primary task, bringing the shuttle away from this hostile place as soon as everybody was safely on board.

When Jon tried to hoist Trip into the shuttle, Erianna was immediately at his side and took the engineer from him. Trip smiled at her when she effortlessly set him down on the bench beside Malcolm. The lieutenant leaned against the bulkhead with his eyes shut, pressing a bandage against his bloody left side.

"Hey Mal, how are you?"

Malcolm opened his eyes. "The bullet only grazed the skin. A small bruise, no reason to worry. What about Jeren?"

Trip looked over at the other bench where their friend lay on his stomach. The red stain on his shoulder was still spreading. "Harek shot him."

"Harek?"

"That's right. Looks like he doesn't care much about old friendships. And Jeren was so sure he wouldn't shoot."

Erianna sat down beside them when Ensign Hanks closed the hatch. "We're ready," the young security guard told the captain.

Archer nodded to Travis who boosted the engines at once. Trip smiled. What a beautiful sound. He closed his eyes, feeling immense relief wash over him.

They had gained only a few meters of height when suddenly a vehicle with a glittering sign on both sides appeared in front of the shuttle.

"Now what?" Travis asked, irritated. "Are they going to try and ram us?"

The captain leaned forward to look out the window. "Looks like they are. Could they be a danger to us, Ensign?"

"With this rust bucket?" Travis sneered.

"I see. Anyway, evasive manoeuvre, Ensign."

Travis tried some manoeuvres, but the other vehicle stayed on an intercept course, still trying to ram them.

"I'm beginning to get just a little tired of them," the captain growled. "I don't need another ruined shuttlepod. Bring the weapons online, Travis. A direct hit into their engines should do it."

Travis powered up the phase cannons and hit the rear section of the governor's flitter with a well aimed blast. Her eyes wide, Erianna watched the flitter go down and crash onto the ground, hard.

"Your shuttles are equipped with weapons?" she asked incredulously.

Trip ran a hand over his stubbly chin. "They only work when the computer's online," he smiled.

"Wow! I like that." Erianna grinned. "You know what? This shuttle's a great deal better than the scrap heap you've landed with."

"Scrap heap is the right word." Captain Archer sat down in front of them, giving Trip a mock scowl. "Could you tell me, Commander, what the hell you've done to my shuttlepod?"

Trip grinned. "It was Malcolm, Cap'n. He was at the helm." He felt Malcolm stiffen beside him and laid a hand on his friend's thigh. "It's okay, Malcolm, relax, I was just jokin'." Trip looked at Archer who had difficulties hiding a grin. The captain was immensely relieved to have his two officers back unharmed. Sobering up, Trip met Archer's eyes. "It's a long story, Cap'n." He was far too tired to relate everything that had happened during the last week to the captain, at least not right now.

"I bet," Archer grumbled. "In any case the two of you won't be getting your hands on another shuttle for quite some time. Bring the grappler online, Travis. We'll take the shuttle with us when we cross that clearing. Let's just hope it's not going to fall apart."

Trip looked around. He could hardly believe that they finally had managed to escape. Once again, the captain had done the cavalry thing and gotten them out of a hopeless situation. And not a minute too soon, either.

"What's been taken you so long, Cap'n?" he asked.

Jon smiled. "That's a long story as well. I'm sure it's not quite as long as yours, but I guess it can wait until we're back on Enterprise."

"Agreed." Exhausted, Trip closed his eyes. His adrenaline level was slowly coming down again, leaving him feeling tired and worn-out. Yawning, he forced himself to open his eyes again. He couldn't go to sleep right now. Not when Erianna was looking so vulnerable as she was anxiously watching her brother.

"He'll be okay," he tried to comfort her. "You'll see, our doctor can remove the bullet in no time."

"That's not the point, Trip," Erianna whispered and when she looked at him he could see plain fear in her eyes. "It looks like his shoulder is broken. You know what that means."

"You can't be sure of that, Erianna. Just wait and see. And even if it is broken, our doctor has worked some miracles before." Furtively, Trip tried to suppress another yawn. "I'm sorry."

Erianna laid her hand on his back. "It's okay, Trip," she said gently. "Just relax."

Trip sighed, laying his head on her shoulder. The last thing he saw was the surprised expression on the captain's face, then he was asleep.

Archer started. "What's the matter with him?" he asked, alarmed.

Smiling, Erianna looked at the sleeping man whose head rested on her shoulder, gently stroking a lock of blond hair out of his forehead. "He's only sleeping, Captain, and he is in urgent need of rest."

"Who isn't?" Malcolm muttered beside her. The lieutenant's eyes were also slowly drifting shut. He hated the idea of falling asleep, feeling he had to hold on the last few minutes until they would be aboard Enterprise, but there was nothing he could do about it. After he had spent so many hours awake and alert, the last days were finally taking their toll. Even his aching side couldn't stop Malcolm from falling asleep.


	30. Chapter 30

Sickbay was a mess. It wasn't that Phlox couldn't handle his work, but the wrong people were insisting on staying while the one he wanted to treat was urgently demanding to be allowed to leave. The doctor could understand Captain Archer staying here to look after his officers, he could even understand why the young Renelan woman wasn't leaving her chair, after all he was treating her brother, but he didn't have a clue as to why Hoshi and T'Pol had appeared in sickbay immediately after the shuttle's return, getting in his way all the time. As if that weren't enough people messing up the sickbay routine, there was still this uncooperative patient who tried to get up all the time.

"Lieutenant Reed," he sighed, glancing over at Malcolm while he was treating the deep cuts in Jeren's back some of which had begun to bleed again. "Would you please do me a favor and stay in bed? I'll take care of you as soon as I can. Take a leaf out of Commander Tucker's book."

Malcolm glanced at Trip who was lying on his usual sickbay bed, still sleeping. He had barely moved at all when the paramedics had pulled him from Erianna's shoulder to put him down onto the stretcher.

"It's only a small cut, doc," he said defiantly. "Nothing more than a bruise, really. It has even stopped bleeding. No reason to make such a fuss."

Phlox frowned. "After all the bruise earned you a cracked rib. And I'm not making a fuss, Lieutenant, I'm doing my job."

"I only want to go to my quarters to take a shower, doc. Do you know how long it's been since I last changed?"

Phlox looked at him. "My nose gives me quite a good idea." He sighed and his expression softened. "Let me make a suggestion, Lieutenant. You let Hoshi get fresh clothes from you quarters and take that shower here. Then you let Ensign Cutler take care of your injury and after that you can do whatever you please. Perhaps Hoshi is even willing to accompany you to your quarters, so you won't run into any more problems."

Turning his back to Malcolm, who was cringing in embarrassment, Phlox looked at the other people in the room. "T'Pol, you may assist me, if you want to, and I think it would be a good idea, Captain, to show the lady to one of the guest quarters where she can get a shower and some rest. And you could introduce her to chef's culinary abilities. I may be able to tell you about the commander's condition when you come back afterwards." With a smile he turned to Erianna. "Eat something and get some rest. I'll take care of your brother."

Anxiously, Erianna looked at him. "His shoulder is broken, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's right, but I've removed the bullet and the wound isn't infected. There's no reason to worry."

"You don't understand, doctor." Erianna bit her lip to keep the tears at bay. "Renelan bones are different from human ones. They don't heal. A bone fracture equals a death sentence."

Phlox put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't be so pessimistic, hm? You go get some rest now and I'll take care of your brother. Please trust me, I'm quite good at my job."

Erianna nodded weakly, but made no move to get up from the chair. Eventually, Archer took her gently by her arm. To him, Phlox' request had been very clear. If they didn't leave now the doc would simply kick them out. "Phlox is right. I'm sure you must be hungry." When he had Erianna's attention, Archer continued, "On our way to the messhall I'll show you our observation deck. I'm sure you'll like it."

"Alright, Captain." Reluctantly, Erianna got up. She sighed. "Let's get out of the doctor's hair." After a last worried glance at Jeren she allowed the captain to lead her out of sickbay.

* * *

 

Trip could hear his own moan when he awoke from a deep and dreamless sleep. He was lying in his bed. In his own bed, in his own quarters. He vaguely remembered how Jon had personally carried him from sickbay to his quarters and had put him down on the bed.

Hearing a faint sound next to him, Trip opened his eyes. The dimmed lights barely lit up the room, but he could clearly make out Jon sitting beside him, patiently waiting for him to wake up.

"Hey Trip, you're awake."

Trip yawned. "How long have I been sleepin'?"

"About eight hours." Jon reached out when Trip tried to sit up, but withdrew his hand when Trip shook his head. Trip reached for the bar Malcolm had put over his bed and pulled himself up into a sitting position. "How are Malcolm and Jeren?"

"Malcolm is arguing with Phlox because he thinks he's fit for duty and Phlox doesn't. Jeren is quite well. Phlox is confident that the broken shoulder will heal within a few days." Jon looked at Trip. "What's so funny?"

"Malcolm," Trip said simply. Then he frowned. "It's funny, indeed. As sophisticated as the Renelan medicine is, they can't heal a simple bone fracture. I'm so glad Phlox could help Jeren. You don't know what a broken bone means on Renelan."

"Oh, believe me, I do. I had a very interesting dinner with Erianna and Malcolm. They've told me about your adventures in detail. It's unbelievable what you've accomplished, most of all in that desert. And Phlox was very impressed to hear about Malcolm's hands. I guess the two physicians can learn from each other." Jon looked at Trip, thoughtfully, then grimaced. "You both went through a lot."

Trip exhaled audibly. "Tell me about it, Jon. Please do me a favor, will you? If at some point in the future you get the idea that you have to pull me out of another depression, try to find a less excitin' distraction, okay?"

"I promise." Jon laughed, but quickly grew serious again. "Malcolm told me about your relapse. I can't even imagine how awful this must have been for you. I'm so sorry, Trip. I shouldn't have sent you on this mission. It was irresponsible."

"Don't say that, Jon." Trip looked at his legs. "I might have suffered another relapse on Enterprise, too. It wasn't only bad and dangerous down there. It was okay."

"You don't blame me?"

"How could I?" An amused sparkle appeared in Trip's eyes. "After all you're the Cap'n."

Somewhat unsure, Archer searched Trip's eyes for a reproach, but he couldn't find any. "I've been so worried," Jon admitted. "We've met a rather unfriendly species who wouldn't allow us to pass through their space, but they told us about this asteroid field, presuming that you both were long dead. We were worried about you before, but wasting three days flying around their territory was terrible. I guess the whole crew was pretty on edge."

"I'm sorry, Cap'n."

"It wasn't your fault, Trip. We were so relieved when we picked up the readings of the shuttlepod. It meant you had passed the asteroid field. We were hoping to find you there with the pod, but when we entered the clearing, there was only the shuttle, completely dented and torn so we feared the worst. But then your emergency signal came in. Right from the middle of the forest."

"Your timin' was perfect, Jon. Five minutes later and you wouldn't have found us alive."

Archer smiled lopsidedly. "I'm still amazed at how you always manage to get into such a fix. Even though my tactical officer isn't any better at avoiding trouble." He pointed at something next to him. "There's something waiting for you. Malcolm told me you've missed it dearly."

Trip smiled as he looked over at his wheelchair. "Hi there, my friend," he said, jokingly, before he turned to Archer. "That's right," he admitted. "Can you imagine how humiliatin' it is to let people carry you all the time?"

Jon nodded. "Not to mention being carried by a pretty woman like Erianna."

Trip pressed his lips together. "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not. Erianna is a strong woman."

"She is. In many respects. Will you help them, Erianna and her brother?"

Jon looked at him thoughtfully. "I discussed the matter with T'Pol. We both don't see any problems with making first contact with Alkira and helping Jeren and Erianna to voice their request."

"Do they already know about your decision?"

"Yes, they do, and they seem to be very happy about it."

"I believe they are. They've been working for this for years."

"And they have gained some astonishing insights by doing so. It's outrageous what their government is doing. Imagine the nerve it takes to create a poison and to inject people with it, telling them it's a cure for a disease."

"Erianna told you about the T-14?"

"Yeah, and I also know about the T-18. I would so like to get a hold of this man Tasur."

"Perhaps you'll get the opportunity. At some point the Alkiran and the Renelan governments will have to meet each other."

"You're suggesting us playing shuttle service for them?"

"I thought about somethin' like that. But I don't think it would be helpful for the negotiations if you strangled one of the governor's beforehand."

Jon bit his bottom lip, chewing on it. "Could you bear having the man on board who ordered to kill you?"

Trip ran a hand over his cheeks, unconsciously noticing that he needed to shave. "I could do it for Erianna and Jeren. These two have done so much for me that it would be a small sacrifice. Besides, he can't do me any harm here. This is my territory."

"Okay, let's see how the contact with Alkira comes out. Are you hungry?"

"Sure. It's been a while since I've had somethin' to eat."

"Do you want me to get something for you?"

Trip shook his head. "Thanks, but I prefer goin' to the messhall."

Jon stood when Trip shoved his feet to the floor. "Can I help you?"

"Please push the wheelchair somewhat nearer. I'll manage the rest on my own. It's time to become a little more independent again. D'you know where Erianna is at the moment?"

* * *

 

Erianna stared out the window so intently, she didn't even hear the door to the observation deck open. Trip studied the fascinated expression on her face. Admiring the beauty of space with wide eyes, she looked relaxed, calm, expectant and somehow like a child that was amazed at the miracles of the world.

Trip remembered when he had last looked out of this window. His gaze hadn't been directed towards the endless space, but towards his own misery that had seemed so huge and overwhelming. What he had said to the captain in his quarters an hour before had been the truth. It hadn't been all bad and dangerous on Renelan. Thinking about it, the time on the planet had given him a lot. Beside the toils, the pain and the fear he had received an invaluable gift. He knew now how his handicap had come into existence. He knew what was causing it and how he could fight it. Most important, he knew it wasn't permanent and he had no reason to fear being bound to the wheelchair for a lifetime. Jeren had taken away this fear. Trip knew it would never have left him alone otherwise. Fearing all the time that every little strain could lead to a relapse, he would never have been the same man again. He would have been afraid of doing hard work and would have become weak and bitter over the years. Jeren had given him back his future and that was worth all the pain, fear and humiliation he had had to go through on Renelan. That, and the good friends he had found there.

"Hey," he said gently.

Erianna whirled around and smiled broadly when she saw him. "Trip." She took a few steps to reach him and hugged him tightly. "It's good to see you. How are you?"

Trip grinned. He was back aboard Enterprise, had showered and shaved and gotten something to fill his stomach, so he was feeling just great. "A lot better," he told Erianna, hugging her before she straightened up again. "And you?"

"It's fantastic. Jeren will be okay and Captain Archer agreed to take us to Alkira. Suddenly it all looks so simple. And this is just unbelievable." With a gesture Erianna included not only the observation deck but the whole ship. "In my wildest dreams I never expected to see something like this. An hour ago we were flying close by this asteroid field because your crew took some scans. T'Pol showed me the anomaly you came through on her sensors. It's so beautiful."

Trip smiled about Erianna's excitement. Shyly, she looked at him. "I bet you think I'm childish."

Trip shook his head. "No, of course not. It is fascinatin', for all of us, even for the cap'n." He smiled. "I guess even for T'Pol, although she never would admit it."

Erianna nodded. "You have a wonderful life, Trip. I envy you."

"Sometimes it's not so wonderful after all. Sometimes it's dangerous and sometimes it's just plain borin'."

Erianna laughed. "I believe that it can be dangerous, but boring? Never." She looked at him. "Is that your wheelchair?" she asked. "Seems like a good alternative to walking indeed."

"Better than bein' carried." Trip felt uncomfortable with the matter. It was time to change the subject. "Are you looking forward to meeting the Alkirans?"

"I'm excited. We don't have any idea how those people will react to us. We only know that Carrin and the other merchants were very open-minded and interested in our ideas."

Trip smiled. He had clearly seen Erianna blushing when she had mentioned the name of the Alkiran merchant. "You'll see him again?" he asked.

"I don't know. I don't know where to look for him. Alkira is rather big."

"It shouldn't be that hard to find out which merchants have visited Renelan."

"It would be nice." Erianna blushed once more.

"What else d'you know 'bout Alkira?"

"Not too much. From what I've heard, it's being a beautiful planet. With two great oceans and lots of inland water. They've got a president who governs the whole planet. As far as I know the inhabitants are rather friendly, although I guess you'll find people like Rassik all over the universe. But I assume Alkirans and Renelans could find a way to live together."

"Sounds good. I'm really looking forward to finding out whether you'll be successful. By the way, have you already been taken on the big tour?"

"No, I've been to the bridge and Malcolm has shown me the armory before the captain ordered him to rest. Oh yeah, and I've seen sickbay and the messhall."

Trip chuckled, hearing about Malcolm who in fact seemed to be doing quite well again. "Okay, so I'll show you the most important part of the ship."

* * *

 

"Hey, folks, look who's here. The chief's back." For a moment, Trip basked in the attention of his crew who surrounded him, warmly welcoming him back. It did seem that they had missed him. But soon he was beginning to feel uncomfortable with all the chattering voices that asked him about his health and told him over and over again how happy they were to have him back. "Don't you have anythin' to do?" he asked, waving his hands to get some space.

"Actually a lot, Chief!" Rostov grinned broadly. "The captain told me to repair Shuttlepod One. What have you done to the poor ship, Commander? I know you were flying through this asteroid field, but there's not a single circuit left in its place. I'll need half of the crew to repair it and the other half to replace the dented bulkheads."

"You're just the man for the job, Mike. Hurry up, I want to have a workin' shuttlepod by the day after tomorrow."

"The day after tomorrow? You must be joking, Commander." Grumbling, Rostov called for some of his colleagues who followed him to the shuttle bay.

Smiling, Trip watched them leave when something caught his attention. The warp engine wasn't running as steadily as it used to. The humming sounded not right in his ears. "What's wrong with the warpdrive?" he asked worriedly.

Sighing, Hess turned to the crew. "I told you, the chief will know about it the minute he starts listening."

"Know about what?"

"The engines overloaded. We've been constantly flying maximum speed during the last days. There were moments I was sure the warp drive would blow up the next second, but the captain wouldn't allow us to reduce speed." Apologetically, Hess looked at Trip, as if she feared a reproach for handling his precious engines in such a rude way.

But Trip only grimaced, holding up his hands. "No problem. We'll handle it."

Hess nodded in relief.

Trip snorted. Who was he to complain about the engines' condition? If Enterprise hadn't been flying at maximum speed, he would not be here.

Heading for their various work stations, his crew spread out over the room. Trip turned to Erianna who was looking around with big eyes. "This is fantastic," she whispered. "You do have a great job here."

"That's right, and I wouldn't want to be doing anythin' else." Trip smiled about Erianna's open admiration, giving her some time to look around while he checked the repair schedule with Hess and controlled the status of the engines. Manoeuvring his wheelchair to the foot of the stairs to the warp core, a frustrated expression crossed Trip's face.

"What's the matter?" Erianna asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Nothin'. I would like to have a look at the warpcore. But I can't get there, at least not at any point in the near future."

"Do you want me to get you up there?"

Surprised, Trip looked at Erianna. Apologetically, she raised her hands. "I know you don't like to be carried, but it's still an option."

Trip opened his mouth to decline the offer, but after another look at the warpcore he changed his mind. Why shouldn't he accept it? It had been a long time since his crew had had something they could gossip about. He smiled. It was only a matter of his personal point of view. He could think of it as humiliating or he could have some fun.

"Okay. It's been way too long since I've been up there." He wrapped his arm around Erianna's neck, and she lifted him out of the wheelchair. When she effortlessly carried him up the few steps, he could see his crew standing there with their mouths open. For a moment dead silence settled on the room.

"They're watching us," Erianna stated.

"Of course they do. I guess some of them are wonderin' how you can be strong enough to carry me and the others are speculatin' on what's goin' on between the two of us."

"They like you."

"You think so?"

"It's obvious. They were worried about you."

"I know, but they're worrying too much. Can you put me down on my feet please?"

"Sure." Erianna let his feet slip to the floor and entwined her hands around his waist to hold him upright. What a sight for his crew. But Trip didn't care. It was a great feeling to be standing on his own feet again, even if Erianna was carrying his whole weight. It was a great feeling, too, to be working the reactor's controls again.

"What do you mean, they're worrying too much?" Erianna wanted to know.

"Since my relapse no one dares to tell me about any problems that crop up, they all just go to Hess to spare me the trouble."

"Maybe you should tell them that you don't want to be mollycoddled."

Trip turned his head to look at Erianna. When she put it like that, it sounded so simple.

When Erianna carried him back down the stairs, Trip saw Malcolm standing at the bottom, watching them with a dry smile on his face. Trip just shrugged. He had decided to stop being ashamed of his condition. It was okay to accept help from other people and it wasn't a great difference between Jon or Erianna carrying him.

Malcolm helped him to sit back down in the wheelchair. "We have orders to get Jeren and come to the bridge," he told them. "Hoshi has got something for us."

* * *

 

Phlox beamed when they entered sickbay. "Now I have all my patients gathered together in one room. What rare luck. But I don't think you two came for an examination?"

"Sorry, doc," Trip grinned. "We're here to get Jeren. Cap'n's orders," he added quickly when he saw Phlox frowning and throwing a thoughtful look at Jeren who stood beside him. Jeren's arm was strapped across his chest to stabilize the injured shoulder, but otherwise he looked quite well. On the monitor, Jeren and Phlox had been looking at an image of a body with nerves and muscles that looked very familiar to Trip.

Phlox, who had followed the engineer's gaze, nodded enthusiastically. "It's indeed an interesting substance, this tetraparcyllin, Commander. Jeren just explained to me how it works."

"And Doctor Phlox will tell me about how to heal Renelan bones." Jeren hugged Erianna with his healthy arm. "It's good to see you all in good condition. Looks like we all have survived our little walk in the woods. What does your captain want?"

"We don't know, either. Let's go to the bridge." Trip shrugged, a regretful expression on his face. "I'm sorry we don't have time for the sight-seeing tour, but we'll show you the ship later on."

* * *

 

Standing behind Hoshi, Captain Archer looked up when they stepped out of the turbolift. "Come on over. Hoshi was able to pick up a transmission that might interest you." He nodded to Hoshi who started the recording.

"That's our documentation," Erianna exclaimed.

"It seems like Arissa and Yanis have been doing some hard work," Jeren said. "How did you manage to pick this up?"

"The transmission was broadcasted over the whole inhabited area of your planet," Hoshi explained. "They used a satellite that was very easily to tap."

"The media satellite," Jeren nodded. "I only hope no one can track it back to Arissa and Yanis. How did they know how to hack into the satellite's system?"

Trip and Malcolm exchanged a knowing look. Upgrading Erianna's computer wouldn't have made a lot of sense if they hadn't shown them how to use the enhancements.

They concentrated on the transmission. The documentation was indeed perfectly done. After a short introductory sequence, Jeren showed up on the screen and explained the connection between CDS and T-14 to the Renelan people.

"I thought you wanted to stay invisible," Trip commented. "We made such an effort to disguise your face."

"Yeah, but after Dorsik's attempt to kill you I told Arissa to delete this effect. After what I've done it's no longer possible to stay underground, anyway. Tasur knows that we freed you, so he would know the documentation is our work. It's more authentic when it's not anonymous."

"That's right." Erianna put her hand on Jeren's good shoulder. "But I still feel uncomfortable, now that you can be identified so easily."

After finishing his explanations, Jeren told his people about their guests from the planet Earth and how he had been able to prove his long-standing theory with their help. Some shots followed in which Trip spoke about his own experiences and Malcolm confirmed them. Hoshi turned around and smiled at the two men.

Afterwards, there was a voice from the off which Jeren to his astonishment identified as Kenan's. "Of course our governors had to keep this a secret. We can't even blame them for trying to keep our population in balance to abide the living standard we all are used to. But the members of our resistance movement think this mustn't cost people's lives. We must not sacrifice our old and ill to improve the quality of our own lives; we mustn't forget that all of us might fall ill, and will certainly grow old at some point. Renelan's possibilities to provide living space are limited, but there has to be another solution. It's no longer tolerable that Renelans are injected with a poison that will slowly kill them while they are told they're suffering from a deadly disease." He paused for a moment, then continued. "We're aware how implausible this sounds. We've lived with CDS for such a long time now that we simply have accepted its existence as a fact, and what you've heard now seems like the ravings of a bunch of paranoid lunatics. I know a lot of people are not willing to believe us. But we can show you how one of our governors has treated our friend from Earth to get rid of him. As you've heard his blood contains T-14 and even an antidote that we can use to create a cure to heal all those people suffering from CDS. To prevent this from happening, our friend Trip was brought to the Health Center by force where Governor Tasur's personal physician tried to kill him."

Trip started badly when all of a sudden he could see himself lying strapped down on the examination table in the Health Center. The hidden camera in the laboratory had recorded his complete conversation with Dorsik which clearly revealed the physician's intention to kill him. Again, Trip could feel the hatred when the other physician put the band-aid over his mouth, and swallowed dryly when he saw the syringe in Dorsik's hand and the panic in his own eyes. Suddenly he felt two hands on his shoulders, one belonging to Jon, the other one to Malcolm. Their comforting squeeze intensified as they watched Dorsik injecting him with the poison. It was only a few seconds until his head dropped lifelessly to one side and his whole body grew visibly limp. To him, these seconds had seemed like eternity. He heard Hoshi inhaling sharply and saw Erianna clinging to Jeren's arm. The moment was so intense that he almost felt as if he were living through it for a second time. Trip shuddered. Looking up he met Jon's worried gaze.

"You okay?" the captain asked softly.

Trip nodded. "It's over."

The image changed and the camera focused on Kenan's face. Jeren bit his lip. So Kenan had also sacrificed himself for their cause. "Our human friend was injected with a substance that is called T-18. It's a concentrated poison, the stronger variation of T-14, the substance that people suffering from CDS get as a cure. T-18 would kill a Renelan in no time at all, but it's somewhat different with the different human metabolism. We were lucky to save our friend just in time. But you see how absurd it is to call such a poison a cure. Our friend's body was completely paralyzed within an instant. Repeated doses of T-14 have the same effect, first causing CDS and later its progression until death.

Governor Tasur hadn't given up on his plan to kill our friend Trip, though. He actually ordered my colleague Jeren who explained T-14 to you before to be brutally tortured to get information about Trip's whereabouts. Unfortunately, we don't know where the two humans and our own people who saved them are at the moment. They didn't come back and we're afraid that they've been captured by the governor's guard."

Kenan straightened his posture. "All the more it's important to make sure their sacrifice wasn't in vain. People of Renelan, I call upon you to stand up against this policy of killing. You heard the facts, please take time to think about them before you take any actions. It makes no sense to be upset or angry or to demand the governors to account for their actions. Most of them were only doing their duty to save our standard of living. We need our governors to think about the situation and what to do to change it. We ask you to stay calm and not to act rashly. But don't go to the Health Centers anymore. Don't allow CDS examinations and particularly don't let them inject you with this so-called cure. Thanks to our human friend, we may be able to provide a real cure that can heal CDS in the near future. We only ask for some patience because we have yet to develop it."

"Could he?" Erianna asked. "Could he develop a cure on his own?"

Jeren shrugged with his good shoulder. "I left the disc with the test results at Yanis' place. I think he gave it to Kenan. So it's possible, but it surely will take some time, because he's not as familiar with the substances as I am."

They looked at the monitor that had gone dark. For a moment no one said a word.

"I have to go and see Arissa," Erianna said. "They think we're dead." She looked at Archer. "Captain, do you think we could..."

Jon nodded. "How late is it in Erianna and Jeren's hometown, Hoshi?"

"Early evening."

"Okay, wait until dark. Travis will take you to the surface."

"Thank you, Captain. We appreciate it very much."

"If you don't mind, Captain, I'd like to fly them down there," Malcolm offered. "I know the terrain quite well by now."

"Very well, Malcolm, it's your job then."

Thoughtfully, Trip looked at his legs. "Jon? I'd like to ask you a favor. Could you go with me to sickbay? I have to talk to you and Phlox before the shuttle takes off."

"Okay." Briefly, Archer looked around. "T'Pol, you have the bridge."


	31. Chapter 31

"Archer to Phlox."

"Phlox here."

"Doc, the shuttle has just docked."

"Thank you, Captain, I'm prepared."

Grinning broadly, Phlox turned back to his patient who lay on the biobed and had been going through a lot of tests since the early morning. Phlox examined his scanner. "It looks like this T-18 has indeed disappeared completely, Commander. I can't detect even a trace of it. I think you'll be spared any after-effects."

Trip grimaced. "The direct effects were bad enough."

"Jeren told me about it. I can imagine it was an awful experience." Phlox offered Trip his hand to help him sit up, gently pushing the engineer's legs over the bedside at the same time.

Trip looked down at his lower legs that were still swinging from the movement. "Well, now there's only the T-14 left, Doc. Any changes?"

Phlox looked at his results. "According to the analysis Jeren has shown me, it seems to be receding slightly. You have to admit that the last days didn't really help speed up the healing process. Have you resumed your exercises?"

"Let's say Malcolm did, Doc. He already told me that we're gonna do the big program tonight."

Phlox smiled. "Just don't overdo it, alright?"

"Of course not, Doc. I'll stay out of trouble this time, I promise. I know what's at stake. What about my duty?"

"Hm." Phlox pondered.

"C'mon, Doc," Trip urged before the doctor had a chance to say something. "They need me in engineerin'."

"Oh, they managed perfectly well without you during the last ten days, Commander."

Trip only looked at Phlox.

"Don't give me that look, Commander." Phlox sighed. "Very well, Mr. Tucker, you may do duty at own assessment. But I will not hesitate to put you to bed if I see you're overexerting yourself. And if I hear about you pulling any silly stunt, I'll keep you here in sickbay for the next month or so. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly well, Doc." Trip looked up when the sickbay doors opened. Erianna and Jeren entered the room, followed by Yanis and Malika who heavily leaned on her son's arm. Malcolm brought up the rear. Phlox went over to welcome the guests.

Malika smiled when she saw Trip sitting on the bed and limped over to him. During his time in her house Trip hadn't been aware of how badly she was limping. The fracture in her right shin was clearly visible. The leg looked strangely crooked, and her foot gave way with every step. She hugged him.

"Trip, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Malika, it's good to see you."

"Malcolm told me you've persuaded your captain to allow your doctor operate on my leg?"

"There wasn't much persuadin' to do." Trip smiled. "We're happy that we can help you."

"Is it really true what Jeren told us? Your doctor can heal broken bones?" Malika asked excitedly.

Trip's smile broadened. "Yep, that's true."

"Even ours?" Malika still couldn't believe it.

"Look at Jeren. He's the living proof. His shoulder is almost as good as new."

"But my leg was broken such a long time ago."

Trip patted her arm. "Believe me, Malika, Phlox will manage. Don't give up, okay?"

The woman nodded. "I'm still a little bit anxious."

"There's no need to be, Malika. Our doctor'll take good care of you. Guess he wants to examine you. I'll make room for you." Trip threw a glance at Malcolm, silently asking for his help, and the armory officer stepped up beside him at once. By now, Reed knew exactly what Trip could do on his own and where he still needed some assistance. Trip was able to hoist himself up onto a sickbay bed, but he would lose his balance on the way back down onto his wheelchair's seat.

"Thanks, Malcolm." Trip put his feet onto the footrest and looked over at Erianna and Jeren. "So, what's new on Renelan?"

Yanis, who was now standing beside his mother, smiled at him. "We were very relieved to see the three of them and to hear that all of you are okay. We were afraid that Tasur had captured you."

"So we started the documentation," Malika explained. "We thought that your sacrifice shouldn't have been in vain."

"We know, we saw the documentation. It was great."

"That's mostly due to Erianna's efforts. And your's, of course. And Kenan helped us a lot by getting the material from the Health Center and doing the presentation."

Yanis gave Jeren an apologetic look. "We couldn't show up, Jeren. I hope you understand that."

"Of course I do. You have to look after Malika and your baby." Jeren sighed. "I did Kenan awfully wrong, thinking of him as a spy."

"And what will happen next?" Trip wanted to know.

"Arissa will send the documentation every four hours," Jeren told him. "And she's preparing another broadcast with Kenan to tell our people about our rescue and suggest the possibility that there might be a solution to our problem. We can't go into detail before we've spoken to the Alkiran president and know what he thinks about it, but that's no reason not to give the people some hope. They'll also tell our people that you, our human friends, are going to help us make a cure for CDS. I took my disc with me and as soon as Dr. Phlox finds the time, I'm sure he will be happy to help me synthesize an antidote."

Trip nodded. "Sounds good. Will you accompany me to the bridge? It's about time the cap'n gets to know about all of this. I guess he'll set a course to Alkira immediately."

"Would you please excuse me to your captain," Jeren asked. "I want to assist Doctor Phlox with Malika's examination."

* * *

 

"Come on, Trip, don't be so lazy."

"Lazy?" Trip exclaimed, panting. The fact that he couldn't move his legs and couldn't press against Malcolm's hands didn't mean the exercises were easy for him. He was sweating. But it felt good to challenge his body. Malcolm kept a careful watch over him and would stop the exercises at once if he started yawning or looking tired. But he wasn't. He could feel the muscles in his legs getting stronger and there was one single muscle in his left calf that he could sometimes tense deliberately. His healing was improving and the tiredness was receding. Perhaps it was because he had learned to listen to the signals of his body and got some rest when he needed it. Duty on own assessment meant he could end his shift whenever he got tired. But he loved working again. His crew no longer tried to spare him but asked his advice like they used to do before his relapse. Erianna had been right. All he had to do was being honest about what he could do and what he couldn't. His crew seemed relieved that there was no need to carefully sneak around him anymore. Now the only thing to do was keeping them from getting overenthusiastic. This morning Hess actually had asked him whether she should order someone to clean the plasma coils or whether he wanted to give the order himself.

Being acting captain while Jon and T'Pol were on Alkira with Erianna and Jeren wasn't difficult, either. They had been staying on the planet for two days now, and their reports sounded promising. Finally, the whole matter seemed to come out quite good.

"Bridge to Commander Tucker."

Malcolm stood, taking the call for Trip.

"The captain's shuttle will dock in about two minutes, sir."

"Thanks, Hoshi." Trip used his hands to push himself into a sitting position and recognized that he could do so more easily than the day before.

Malcolm shook his head. "We're not done here yet, Trip."

"You heard Hoshi, Malcolm. The cap'n's comin' back. I have to go to the bridge."

Malcolm wasn't impressed. "I'm sure the captain can dock the shuttle without you being on the bridge. And besides, you can't meet them like that, all sweaty from exercising. Think of T'Pol's sensitive nose. Come on. A few more exercises. You're almost done."

Trip resigned and started with some sit-ups to strengthen the muscles in his stomach, while Malcolm held his legs down and sometimes offered him a helping hand when he was losing his balance.

They both looked up when Jeren entered the room. "Hey guys, Hoshi told me where to find you." Raising his hand to greet them, he sat down in Trip's wheelchair that stood beside the mats. "Looks good," he stated after watching Trip's efforts with interest.

Trip panted. "Guess it always looks good watchin' other people at work."

Jeren smiled sympathetically. "You're sweating," he noticed, slightly worried.

"No big surprise, after all I'm workin' with a slave driver like Malcolm. But I'm not tired at all."

"I didn't see him yawn a single time," Malcolm confirmed.

"That's a good sign," Jeren smiled. "Go on, I didn't want to interrupt you."

Trip gave Malcolm a sign to give him a rest and rolled onto his side. Propping up on his elbow, he supported his head with his hand. "C'mon Jeren, what happened? Have you been successful? You stayed away long enough."

"It was very interesting indeed. Alkiran's president, Deylan, was very pleased to make first contact with a species from so far away. He and Captain Archer got along very well. Deylan also had an open ear for our problems. He admitted that Alkira is underpopulated, and believes that they would be able to take in half the population of Renelan without any problems. Okay, 'problems' is relative, because such a project would require lots of organization, but there would be enough space for all of us."

"So he agreed to your plan?"

"He did, although there is a lot of negotiation to do. Captain Archer has agreed to pick up our governors and take them to Alkira for debates. They would also be able to inspect the surroundings. Always assuming that they are willing to change something. I hope in the meantime our organization was able to initiate a rethinking."

"They should value any option that would end the killing," Malcolm said.

"I guess Tasur thinks different. He would no longer be able to achieve his plan of having a province of young and healthy people. But I hope he will either show some sense or he will be replaced soon."

"What about the other seven governors?"

"They're not as opinionated as Tasur. We know that some of them are not comfortable with the situation as it is. But we'll see."

"How d'you think the resettlement will work?" Waving his hand, Trip shooed Jeren out of his wheelchair and got in with Malcolm's help.

"It won't be easy," Jeren admitted. "Captain Archer agreed to come back in a few months to play shuttle for us. He and T'Pol had a very interesting talk with Deylan about warp technology. Looks like the Alkirans are only a few steps away from developing their own warpdrive. Steps that could be shortened with your help, Trip."

Surprised, Trip looked up to Jeren. "I'm supposed to help the Alkirans develop warpdrive? And the cap'n agreed with this?"

"He said the Alkirans were on the right track and would only need a little help to show them the right direction."

"T'Pol is supporting this?"

"She had some concerns, but dismissed them for the benefit of our plan. If Alkiran ships were able to fly at warpspeed, it would be much easier to move from Renelan to Alkira or maybe even pay a visit to your family. We could grow to become a big social community, and who knows, perhaps we can even include Menaos."

"Big plans."

Jeren blushed slightly. "I know. Erianna thinks I'm getting too big for my boots. But you can always dream, can't you?"

"How is Erianna?"

Jeren smiled. "Oh, with the help of the government she managed to contact Carrin, our merchant friend. Well, she seems to be in seventh heaven right now."

Trip and Malcolm looked at each other, smiling. If anyone deserved a little happiness, Erianna did.

* * *

 

Malcolm pressed the panel next to Trip's door.

"Who's there?" The engineer's voice sounded strained.

"It's me, Malcolm."

"Come in."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows when he entered Trip's quarter. Trip lay on his bed, desperately struggling with a very persistent opponent.

"Take that silly grin off your face, Lieutenant. Just help me."

Malcolm's smile broadened. "Your uniform, Commander? How come?"

"Jeren and Erianna asked me to attend the negotiations. I can't just show up there in my jeans."

"Well, that's right." Malcolm bent down to show Trip's feet the way out of the trousers.

"How are things comin'?" Trip asked.

"Seven of the governors are on board. Tasur is last. Travis is picking him and his company up at the moment. The captain said perhaps we would like to come and welcome him."

"I wouldn't miss it." Trip grinned sourly. "I'm eager to see his face when he meets us." He sighed. "Let's say, if I ever manage to get into this stupid overall."

Together they stood in front of the shuttle bay, waiting for the shuttle to dock. Erianna and Jeren told Trip and Malcolm what they had gathered from the other guests so far.

"Our documentation hit them like a bomb. All over Renelan there were demonstrations against the Health Centers. Almost the whole population was out on the streets. But all the same, everything went peacefully. It was good that Kenan appealed to their rationality, telling them it makes no sense to be furious at the governors. As far as we know, there were only two or three riots. After the last transmission their attitude changed again. Now everyone's hopefully awaiting the outcome of the negotiations. Most of the governors are extremely cooperative, glad to have a reason to stop with CDS. They are very reasonable people, very different from Tasur."

"What will happen if Tasur doesn't agree?" Malcolm asked.

Jeren shook his head. "He will. Tasur is only strong when other people do his work for him. He doesn't have the courage to stick to his opinion when the other seven governors disagree with him. I wouldn't be surprised if he's even proud that we're from his province, saying that only his rigorous policy enabled us to act as we did."

"You're not serious, are you?" Frowning, Trip looked up at him.

"I bet Tasur will greet you as jovially and open-heartedly like he did the first time he met you."

"He can't act like he never gave the order to kill Trip and torture you," Malcolm stated, bewildered. "He knows that we know what he's done."

"That won't stop him from playing innocent. Tasur is always innocent, the fault always lies with someone else. You'll see."

* * *

 

Jeren turned out to be right. Tasur didn't show a trace of bad conscience when he stepped out of the shuttlepod and came over to greet them. On the contrary, he beamed like he had just met several long lost friends.

"I'm so glad to see you sound and healthy, Commander, Lieutenant. I was hoping so much to meet you again before you leave our planet and now I actually get the chance to do so."

Trip threw a disbelieving glance at Malcolm. Noticing his expression, Tasur broadened his smile. "You don't think I have anything to do with these perfidious attacks on you, Commander, do you? I've already released Dorsik from his duty. It's unbelievable what he has done."

Jon stepped up beside them. He was smiling, but Trip saw the grim expression in his eyes and knew his captain could hardly restrain himself. Seemingly accidentally, he laid his hand on Trip's shoulder, shooting Tasur an angry glance. "I'm glad to hear that," he said in a tone of voice that made clear he didn't believe a word of what Tasur had said. "I'm very happy to have my chief engineer back, unharmed. And the same goes for my armory officer." Archer nodded at Malcolm.

"Armory officer?" Tasur's jaw dropped. "You never told us, Lieutenant, that you're the armory officer of your ship," he exclaimed reproachfully. "My men would have been enthusiastic to hear that."

"How is Rassik doing, Governor?" Malcolm asked friendly.

"Rassik?" For just a moment Tasur's facade dropped and they could see an old man who knew that he had lost. But he was spared an answer when they heard another voice.

"Malcolm!" Reed barely had the time to turn his head when Farina came running and flung her arms around his neck. "Malcolm! I'm so glad to see you."

Malcolm saw Trip's grin, Archer's surprised expression and T'Pol's raised eyebrows and wished for the floor to open up and swallow him. He took Farina's arms from his neck, gently but firmly extricating himself from her grip.

"But, Malcolm..." she stammered, disappointed.

"I'm on duty, Farina," he explained stiffly.

Tasur had managed to get a hold of himself again. Patronizingly, he laid his arm around Farina's shoulders. "I'm sure, Lieutenant Reed will have some time for you later on, Farina. Come on now, the captain wants to show us our quarters."

Behind Farina, Harek had climbed out of the shuttle. He wasn't a good actor like Tasur and clearly felt uncomfortable. He gave Trip a sheepish look. "I'm happy to see you, Commander. And you too, Jeren." He pointed at the sling that supported Jeren's arm. "What's with your arm?"

"I broke my shoulder," Jeren explained, his voice cold as ice.

"Broke?" Harek inhaled sharply.

"Don't act so surprised. You knew very well what could happen if your bullet hit me. But don't worry, Enterprise's doctor was able to heal the fracture."

"I'm glad to hear that, Jeren. It's good to see you and the Commander in good health."

"No thanks to you," Jeren snapped angrily.

Harek shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Believe me, Jeren, shooting you was the hardest thing I ever had to do."

"But you did it nevertheless."

"What exactly do you blame me for, Jeren? For putting my loyalty to the governor and his orders before our friendship?"

"No, Harek, I blame you for putting your loyalty before your conscience and allowing it to cloud your judgment." Jeren pointed at the door. "Your governor is waiting for you. You should hurry."

Trip glanced at Harek. It seemed like his friendship with Jeren was damaged beyond repair. But he couldn't blame Jeren that he didn't want to have anything to do with the man who had shot him. He felt Enterprise going to warp. They were on their way to Alkira to meet president Deylan and his government. Then the negotiations could begin.

* * *

 

For six days, Enterprise had been in a low orbit around Alkira. The crew had got some days off which they mostly spent on the planet's white sandy beaches. So far, the negotiations were going well. Renelan's governors felt relieved at the idea of no longer having to limit the population numbers by force. Even Tasur had dismissed the thought of having a planet of only young people, coming to terms with the notion of having old and disabled persons around as well.

Archer and T'Pol helped to work out plans for the resettlement. It was a logistic challenge, since Deylan was willing to provide areas for about four million Renelan people. They wouldn't come all at once, of course. The number of the first settlers had been reduced to a few thousand. Archer had promised to bring them and their equipment to Alkira. More settlers were going to be picked up later on by Alkiran ships, which would be equipped with warp drive by then.

Trip spent most of his time with the engineering team that was working on the warpdrive. He found it very satisfying to work with the open-hearted and intelligent Alkiran engineers. Malcolm barely ever left his side. Trip knew that his friend saw himself as his personal guardian angel, but he also had the distinct feeling that Malcolm was trying to avoid Farina. The girl was still very persistent in seeking Malcolm's company, completely ignoring his furtive attempts to get rid of her. Ever since the embarrassing scene in the shuttle bay the lieutenant had been on the run. Working with Trip was an excellent excuse, allowing him at the same time to make sure that this time, Trip wasn't going to have any unpleasant encounters with the locals. But Alkira indeed seemed to be the paradise it looked like, without any secrets brewing under its surface.

* * *

 

It was the last day of their stay in Alkira's orbit. In a few hours they would be returning to Renelan to bring the governors and all the other guests back home, which also meant saying good-bye to Erianna, Jeren, Yanis and Malika.

Trip and Malcolm were sitting side by side in the warm sand, looking out on the green water. Alkira's two big oceans were surrounded by beautiful beaches that stretched far beyond the horizon.

"Well, I wouldn't have thought that I'd ever enjoy the sight of sand again." Malcolm smiled, slipping the white glimmering sand through his fingers.

"Me neither. Not after our last excursion." Trip had propped himself up on his elbows and watched Erianna and her boyfriend who were walking barefoot and hand in hand through the ankle-deep water. Behind them on the beach Yanis and Jeren were talking to Malika. Jeren's shoulder had completely healed by now, and Phlox had told them that Malika's slight limp would be gone within the next two days.

"Why don't you go for a swim," Trip suggested. "You don't have to babysit me."

Malcolm shook his head. "That's alright. I'm not so crazy about water. How about you? I could carry you in."

"Maybe next time." Trip smiled. "We'll be back in a few months. What d'you think about T'Pol's idea of launchin' a subspace amplifier between Alkira and Renelan to establish a permanent contact?"

"It's a great suggestion. The amplifier will help the planets to establish frequent communication. I'm just a little surprised that there were enough engineers willing to go to Renelan in order to modify their communication equipment. To be honest I didn't expect so much open-mindedness." Malcolm looked at Trip and smiled. "It's an advantage for us as well. Since we're going to launch more amplifiers on our way to stay in contact with Earth, we'll also be able to get transmissions from Jeren and Erianna. They'll surely want to keep in touch."

"And you can stay in contact with Farina." Trip grinned when Malcolm startled. "Tell me, Mal, I was told she was standin' in front of your door last night, is that true?"

Malcolm gritted his teeth. "Who said that?"

"Hey, c'mon, relax. Y'know, news like that travel at warp speed. Did you let her in?"

Malcolm blew out his cheeks in exasperation.

"Did you?"

"No, I'm afraid I'm responsible for the first diplomatic blunder in the relationship between Renelan and Earth."

"You sent her away? Why?"

"I told you over and over again that it's not my way to take advantage of young women. Farina is so... so..." Malcolm struggled for the right word. "So young and innocent. Not to say naive."

"Naive?" Trip raised his eyebrows. "I'm not sure, Mal, perhaps her naivety is only a trick to get what she wants."

Malcolm grimaced. "If it's a trick she knows very well how to hide it. She seemed to be obsessed with the idea that I would marry her and join Tasur's guard."

Trip guffawed. "Sorry, Malcolm," he gasped, "but the idea is just too funny."

"I know." Malcolm grabbed a hand full of sand and threw it at Trip. "Stop that, will you?"

"Hey, that's unfair. Y'know I can't defend myself."

"I know." Malcolm grinned, then decided to change the subject. "Do you think Renelan will manage to prepare the departure of a few thousand people within four months?"

Trip sobered up again. "They don't have much time, but I think they'll manage. Jeren seemed sure there would be more than enough Renelan people who'd want to leave their planet."

"Considering their options, I would do the same."

"But the governor's have agreed never to take such drastic measures again only to keep their livin' standard."

"It's a good thing that they have other options now." Thoughtfully, Malcolm looked at Trip.

Questioningly, Trip raised his eyebrows. "What's the matter?"

Malcolm smiled, lost in thought. "Do you believe in fate, Trip?"

"Why?"

"You know, during the last weeks I often wondered why you had to go through all of this. Those aliens injecting you with the poison, the physical discomfort and pain, the paralysis, it all seemed so unfair to me; so senseless, in a way. But now it looks like you've saved the future of a whole planet."

"That wasn't my doin'."

"But you set the ball rolling. Without you, Erianna and Jeren would've never been able to bring about such a drastic change. Jeren would've never been able to prove his theory without you. It's only because of you that they're going to get a cure to heal all those people who are still suffering from CDS."

"You mean, it all makes sense now, in a way?"

"That doesn't make it any better, though. You had to go through so much, I still don't understand how you managed to keep your optimistic attitude all the time. But maybe it's comforting to know that at the end, something good came out of it, after all."

Trip slowly nodded, looking down at his legs. Malcolm was right; all he needed now was his own personal happy end. Suddenly he started slightly and began to grin. "Malcolm! Look!"

Questioningly, Malcolm looked at him.

"Not my face, Mal. There!" With his chin, Trip pointed at his bare feet.

Astonished, Malcolm looked at the waggling toes, a broad grin spreading on his face. "Hey Trip, that looks great. Guess we can try the parallel bars once again this evening."

"Okay, so you have an excuse to avoid Farina."

"Oh, cut it out."

"And after that we're gonna watch a film in my quarters and the poor girl will have to stand in front of your door the whole night."

"Trip!"

"And you're welcome to set up your cot again and stay over night."

"Commander Tucker!"

"Or you could ask Hoshi to have dinner with you in your quarters and to watch the film afterwards, so Farina finally realizes you're not interested in her."

Malcolm sighed in mock exasperation. "If you don't stop it right now, Commander, I'm going to hide your wheelchair."

"You'd only have to carry me again." Trip waggled his toes and realized that he was able to tense the muscles in his legs. He grinned. "Or I'm jus' gonna stay here until I'm able to walk again."

"I bet." Malcolm returned the grin and stood up to call their friends and show them Trip's progress.

* * *

 

It was hard to say good-bye. Malcolm had volunteered to fly the last shuttle, the one that would bring Erianna, Jeren, Yanis and Malika back down to Renelan. Erianna hugged Trip with all her might. "I'll miss you."

Trip wiped away a small tear that had fallen from her eye. "We'll come back soon. You'll have so much to do the next time, the four months will be over before you'll even get the chance to miss us."

Yanis laid a hand on his shoulder. "We can't thank you enough for your help."

"You have to thank the cap'n."

"We did. But without you all of this wouldn't be possible. You're Renelan's hero."

Trip ducked his head. "I don't think so."

Smiling, Malika pushed her son out of the way to hug Trip. "Thanks a lot, son."

"For what?" Trip asked astonished.

"For giving me new courage to live. Whatever they did to you, you never even thought of giving up. Not even when your condition was really bad. You put me to shame, Trip, by your undeterred will to live. And it's not least because of you that I'm able to walk properly again. You and Doctor Phlox, you gave me a new life."

Trip didn't know what to say, and simply gave the woman a big hug.

Jeren took Trip's hand, meeting his eyes.

"Thank you, Jeren, for all that you've done for me."

"Same here, Trip. When we meet again, you'll come walking. Promise?"

"Promise, Jeren."

"Take care of yourself, okay?" Jeren threw him a last glance before he entered the shuttlepod. Trip hurried to leave the shuttle bay. Looking out the window, he watched the shuttle plopping out of Enterprise and setting course to the planet below. "Be careful not to land in the desert, Malcolm," he muttered when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay, Trip?"

Trip turned his head. "Of course, Jon. Just a little sad, I suppose. It's like losing good friends."

"We'll meet them again soon. Why don't you join me in the messhall, I believe I was smelling freshly baked pecan pie."

"Sure." Trip threw a last glance out the window. The shuttle was only a very small spot in the distance. But in about four months, Enterprise would return. And then Trip Tucker would be able to meet his friends again with both his feet standing firmly on the ground.


	32. Epilogue

Dear Trip,

I really hope that you will get this transmission. The amplifiers are working perfectly with Alkira, but Enterprise is much farther away. Did you explore any unknown planets and initiate first contacts? Have you met these Merakians again your captain has told us about? I can't tell you how much I envy you such an exciting life.

But in the meantime it's gotten exciting on Renelan as well. It took the Alkiran engineers only two weeks to rebuild our comm system and to enable us to get in contact with Alkira. At the moment, however, only the governors and a few authorized people are allowed to use the new comm devices. Yes, that's right, Jeren and I belong to those authorized people. We are very busy with the resettlement plans and have to attend a lot of conferences with the governors. We are even very welcome in Tasur's place now.

There's so much to organize and to negotiate. We thought we had arranged all the important things on Alkira, but every day there are questions and problems that need to be discussed in long conferences. I guess without the subspace transmitter that allows us to talk to the Alkiran government whenever we want to, our plans would be doomed to failure.

A lot has changed during the last two weeks. The day after their return, the governors released a message to all citizens, telling them about our plans, but also admitting that they had been using CDS to control the population. They were sorry that "for too many victims of accidents and ill people the way to the afterlife was smoothed too easily." I have to say, that's a very diplomatic way of putting it, but fortunately, that's all over now. Jeren and his colleagues had to work double shifts after the governors had announced that our Health Center has got the cure. From all over the provinces infected people came in droves to get their injection. And they have all returned to good health now. We can't thank Doctor Phlox enough for his help. Jeren will contact him personally when he finds the time, to tell him that the cure they've developed together is working perfectly. Jeren has also successfully used the method to heal Renelan bone fractures. I've never seen my brother so happy.

The whole planet is in an excited mood of departure. A lot of people were skeptical at first about moving to another planet, but by now they've gotten used to the thought and the list of people who want to build a new home in one of the colonies is growing every day. I don't have a clue how this is going to work when you're back. All that equipment, all those things that we're going to need in the first months, not to mention the first two thousand settlers and their personal things, how is all of that supposed to get to Alkira? I think Enterprise is going to look like a cargo ship.

Carrin told me that thanks to you, the warp program on Alkira is improving at a rapid speed. They hope to be able to start the first warp flight around the time when you come back. Wouldn't it be great for you to witness such a historic event? Maybe there's a chance I can join the space program on my new homeworld. Although I'm almost too old to start the training, I would love to see my dream come true. But first we have other things to think about. There will be a lot of organizing to do on Alkira, once we're there. I guess it will take a while to get settled in our new surroundings. Carrin offered me and Jeren that we could stay at his place for the first time. I guess we're going to accept his offer; it'll give Carrin and me some time to get to know each other better. Jeren is teasing me all the time about me finding the guy of my dreams, but I don't want to rush things. And Jeren really has no business teasing me. Do you remember the pretty assistant to Deylan's secretary? I know my little brother has got a crush on her, although he denies it vehemently.

Please tell Malcolm Farina's sending her regards. She told me she has realized that there's really no sense in falling in love with a spaceman, but she's looking forward to meeting you again. I've got the feeling that Malcolm is going to be relieved to hear that. From what I've seen aboard Enterprise, Farina's been very obtrusive. I just hope she didn't embarrass Malcolm (and herself) too much.

Speaking of the governor's family; Tasur is very interested in the new program. I never thought he would be so cooperative. He's acting like we've never been anything but the best of friends. It's disgusting to see him act as if we are the one who did him wrong, and he is being very generous in forgiving us. He actually made it look as though he had ordered Harek and Rassik to bring you to the Health Center only so Dorsik could examine you to get more information about the cure. He claims that Jeren's kidnapping was exclusively Rassik's idea while Dorsik sent out the guards to look for you and bring you back. But Dorsik and Tasur worked closely together and I can't quite imagine that Tasur knew nothing about the goings-on at the Health Center. In my opinion, the innocent behavior he's trying to fool us with is nothing but an act, and I know for a fact that Jeren agrees with me. But it's a good thing that the scapegoats Tasur has found deserve to be treated as such. In fact, he has sacked Dorsik, and we've never seen Rassik again after Jeren healed his arm. I know what you're thinking right now, but he actually did it. My brother is too good for this world. We'll see how it's going with Tasur. Fortunately, Jeren is right: he doesn't have the courage to face the anger of a whole people, and so I think he's going to try and save face by simply changing his policy and welcoming all that we're proposing. And as soon as we're on Alkira, Tasur is history for us. At the moment, we'll just have to swallow any nasty comments and treat him as politely as we can.

Malika and her family send their regards as well. They're very grateful for Malika's recovery. You can't imagine how happy and energetic she is now. It's so good to see her like that. The whole family is going with us to Alkira, and we're glad about it. Kenan will accompany us as well. Alkira is in need of some good physicians. In many areas of life, they're ahead of us, but our medicine is much more advanced than theirs, and we can help them a lot. On the other hand, Alkira will help Renelan to develop a space program so that the Alkiran government won't have to manage the shuttle traffic all by themselves. You see, there really is a chance that my dream will come true.

Oh, I nearly forgot: A couple named Salita and Falik told me to give you their regards. You remember them? Jeren told me they found you at your shuttle after you'd landed in the forest. They asked me to tell you that they are very proud that they got to know you and they would love to meet you again when you come back. They both joined our resistance movement which has become a very popular and respected organization by now.

I hope to hear from you soon. Jeren wants to know how you're doing and whether you're still sticking to his "doctor's orders". So please give us a call when you can spare the time.

Take care of you!

Your friend Erianna.

* * *

 

Smiling, Trip looked up from the subspace message he'd got. It seemed that things were actually turning out well on Renelan. He was glad that he would be able to stay in contact with Erianna and Jeren. Both of them had become quite close friends of his and Malcolm's.

The comm chimed. "Reed to Tucker," Trip heard his friend's voice. "May I ask what's keeping you, Commander? I've been waiting in the gym for ten minutes now."

Trip pushed the button. "Sorry, Malcolm, I had to finish somethin'. I'm on my way."

With a last glance at Erianna's message, Trip stood up, grabbed his crutches and walked out the door.

* * *

 

THE END


End file.
